THE  SPIDER. 


CAR!,  EWALD 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


THE     SPIDER 

AND   OTHER  TALES 


BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

PUBLISHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

THE  SPIDER  AND  OTHER  TALES  net,  $1.00 

TWO-LEGS net,  $1.00 

MY  LITTLE  BOY net,  $1.00 


THE    SPIDER 

AND    OTHER    TALES 


BY 
CARL    EWALD 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
NEW    YORK   :::::::    1907 


Copyright,  1907,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
Sole  Authorized  Translation 

Published,  April,  1907 


Th«  Trow  Press,  New  York 


CONTENTS 


PAOK 

THE    SPIDEE 3 

THE    MIST 59 

THE    ANEMONES 77 

THE    QUEEN    BEE 97 

THE    CATEEPILLAR 123 

THE    BEECH    AND    THE    OAK         ....  143 

THE    WEEDS 165 

THE    WATER-LILY   AND   THE   DRAGON-FLY  .  183 

AUNT    EIDER-DUCK                      199 


2040336 


THE    SPIDER 


THE    SPIDER 


THE  hedge  had  once  been  full  of 
trees  and  bushes,  but  they  were  cut 
down  and  nothing  now  shot  up  from 
their  stubs  but  long,  thin  twigs. 

In  between  the  stubs  grew  goafs- 
foot  and  fool's-parsley  and  more 
weeds  of  the  same  kind,  which  all 
look  like  one  another  and  are  called 
wild  chervil  by  people  who  know  no 
better. 

Their  branches  were  almost  as  long 
as  those  of  the  bushes.  And  they  were 
as  pretentious  as  though  they  really 
were  bushes  and  as  though  they  did 
not  wither  in  the  autumn  and  have 

3 


THE  SPIDER 

to  start  all  over  again  with  a  little 
seed,  just  like  some  silly  daisy  or 
pansy.  They  strutted  and  swag- 
gered, they  rustled  in  the  wind,  they 
snapped,  they  lost  their  leaves  and 
got  new  ones,  exactly  as  if  their  time 
were  their  own.  If  any  one  asked 
them  what  they  really  were,  they 
pretended  not  to  hear,  or  turned  it 
off  as  a  jest,  or  refused  pointblank 
to  answer. 

And  then  they  had  beautiful  white 
flowers,  which  they  lifted  high  in  the 
air,  like  parasols,  whereas  the  real 
branches,  that  grew  on  the  stubs, 
never  got  to  look  like  anything  but 
overgrown  children  and  could  put 
forth  neither  flowers  nor  fruit. 


THE  SPIDER 

2 

"Why,  here's  quite  a  wood!"  said 
the  mouse,  one  evening,  sitting  under 
the  foliage  and  peeping  up  with  her 
bright  eyes. 

"We  are  the  wood,"  said  the  goafs- 
foot. 

"Pray  take  a  look  round,"  said  the 
parsley.  "If  you  like  us,  build  your 
nest  in  us.  All  that  we  can  offer  you 
is  at  your  service." 

"Don't  believe  them,"  said  the  real 
bushes.  "They  only  make  a  show 
while  summer  lasts.  When  autumn 
comes,  they  are  gone  without  leaving 
a  trace  behind  them." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  au- 
tumn," said  the  parsley. 

"I  don't  believe  in  autumn,"  said 
the  goat's-foot.  "It's  a  cock-and-bull 
5 


THE  SPIDER 

story  with  which  they  take  in  the 
baby  bushes." 

"Autumn  exists  all  right,"  said  the 
mouse.  "And  after  that  comes  win- 
ter. Then  the  thing  is  to  have  one's 
larder  full.  It's  well  I  thought  of  it. 
I  think  I  will  dig  myself  a  little  hole 
between  the  stones  and  begin  laying 
up." 

"Let  him  burrow  in  the  ground  that 
pleases,"  said  the  parsley. 

"We  have  loftier  aims,"  said  the 
goat's-foot. 

Then  they  stood  a  bit  and  said  no- 
thing. And  then  the  parsley  sighed 
and  said  what  they  were  both  think- 
ing. 

"If  only  a  bird  would  come  and 
build  her  nest  in  us!" 

"We  would  shade  it  and  rock  it  and 
take  such  care  of  it  that  the  real 

6 


THE  SPIDER 

bushes  would  die  of  envy,"  said  the 
goafs-foot. 

"Won't  you  have  me?"  asked  a 
voice. 

A  queer,  gray  individual  came  walk- 
ing up  the  hedge. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  parsley. 

"I  am  the  spider,"  said  the  individ- 
ual. 

"Can  you  fly?"  asked  the  goat's- 
foot. 

"I  can  do  a  little  of  everything,  if 
need  be." 

"Do  you  eat  flies?"  asked  the  pars- 
ley. 

"All  day  long." 

"Do  you  lay  eggs?"  asked  the 
goat's-foot.  "For,  of  course,  you're 
a  woman?" 

"Yes  —  thank  goodness!"  said  the 
spider. 

7 


THE  SPIDER 

"Then  you're  the  bird  for  us,"  said 
the  parsley. 

"You're  heartily  welcome,"  said 
the  goafs-foot.  "You  look  pretty 
light,  so  you  won't  break  our 
branches.  Be  sure  and  begin  to 
build  as  soon  as  you  please.  You'll 
find  plenty  of  materials  in  the 
hedge." 

"It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least  if  you 
nip  off  a  leaf  here  and  there,"  said 
the  parsley. 

"Thanks,  I  carry  my  own  materials 
with  me,"  said  the  spider. 

"I  don't  see  any  luggage,"  said  the 
goat's-foot. 

"Perhaps  your  husband's  bringing 
it?"  asked  the  parsley. 

"I  have  no  husband,  thank  good- 
ness!" said  the  spider. 

"Poor  thing!"  said  the  mouse,  who 
8 


THE   SPIDER 

sat  listening.  "That  must  be  awfully 
sad  for  you." 

"Ah,  there's  the  usual  feminine 
balderdash!"  said  the  spider.  "That's 
what  makes  us  women  such  ridicu- 
lous and  contemptible  creatures.  It's 
always  'my  husband'  here  and  'my 
husband'  there.  I  should  like  to  know 
what  use  a  husband  is  to  one,  when 
all's  said.  He's  nothing  but  a  nui- 
sance and  a  worry.  If  ever  I  take  an- 
other, he  sha'n't  live  with  me,  what- 
ever happens." 

"How  you  talk!"  said  the  mouse. 
"I  can't  think  of  anything  more  dis- 
mal than  if  my  husband  were  to  live 
away  from  me.  And  I  should  like  to 
know  how  I  should  manage  with  the 
children,  if  he  didn't  help  me,  the 
dear  soul!" 

"Children!"  replied  the  spider.  "Fid- 

9 


THE  SPIDER 

dle-de-dee!  I  don't  see  the  use  of  all 
that  coddling.  Lay  your  eggs  in  a 
sensible  place  and  then  leave  them 
alone." 

"She  doesn't  talk  like  a  bird,"  said 
the  parsley,  doubtfully. 

"I  too  am  beginning  to  be  uneasy 
about  her,"  said  the  goat's-foot. 

"You  can  call  me  what  you  like," 
said  the  spider.  "In  any  case,  I  don't 
associate  with  the  other  birds.  If  there 
are  too  many  of  them  here,  I  won't 
even  stay." 

"Lord  preserve  us!"  said  the  pars- 
ley, who  began  to  fear  lest  she  should 
go  away.  "There  are  hardly  ever  any 
here." 

"They  flew  into  the  wood  when  the 
trees  were  cut  down,"  said  the  goat's- 
foot. 

"Yes,  it's  dull  here,"  said  the  long 
10 


THE  SPIDER 

twigs  on  the  stubs.  "One  never  hears 
a  note." 

"It's  all  right  here,"  said  the  spi- 
der. "As  long  as  the  flies  buzz,  I'm 
content." 

"Here  we  are!"  said  the  goat's-foot 
and  the  parsley,  straightening  them- 
selves. 

The  spider  crawled  about  and  looked 
around  her  and  the  mouse  kept  on 
following  her  with  her  eyes: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  she.  "But 
why  do  you  build  a  nest  when  you 
leave  your  eggs  to  shift  for  them- 
selves?" 

"Listen  to  me,  Mousie,"  said  the  spi- 
der. "You  may  as  well  look  upon  me 
from  the  start  as  an  independent 
woman.  I  think  only  of  myself  and 
my  belongings  and  I  look  after  my- 
self. If  I  ever  condescend  to  take  a 
11 


THE   SPIDER 

husband,  the  milksop  will  have  to  look 
after  himself." 

"Lord,  how  you  speak  of  him!"  said 
the  mouse.  "My  husband  is  bigger 
and  stronger  than  I  am." 

"I  have  never  met  him,"  replied  the 
spider,  carelessly.  "The  men  in  my 
family  are  scarce  a  quarter  as  large 
as  I  am.  Wretched  creatures,  not 
worth  a  fly.  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
share  my  flat  with  a  customer  like 
one  of  those.  But  now  I'm  going  to 
build." 

"You  had  better  wait  till  it's  light," 
said  the  parsley. 

"What  will  you  build  with?"  asked 
the  goafs-foot. 

"I  like  the  dark,  as  it  happens,"  said 
the  spider.  "And  I  carry  my  own 
building-materials." 

Then  she  scrambled  to  the  top  of 
12 


THE  SPIDER 

the  goat's-foot  and  looked  round  the 
landscape. 

"You  must  have  good  eyes  to  see  at 
night,"  said  the  mouse.  "Mine  are 
not  bad,  but  still  I  shouldn't  care  to 
build  a  nest  by  this  light." 

"As  for  eyes,  I  have  eight,"  said  the 
spider.  "And  they  see  what  they  have 
to.  I  have  also  eight  legs,  I  may  as 
well  tell  you,  and  you  needn't  be 
struck  with  amazement  on  that  ac- 
count. Taken  all  round,  I  am  a 
woman  who  knows  how  to  help  her- 
self in  an  emergency.  There's  no  cod- 
dling here  and  no  nonsense." 

Now  she  pressed  her  abdomen 
against  the  branch  of  the  goat's-foot 
on  which  she  was  sitting  and  then 
took  a  header  into  the  air. 

"She'll  break  her  neck!"  cried  the 
mouse,  terrified. 

18 


THE  SPIDER 

"I  haven't  got  a  neck,"  said  the  spi- 
der, from  down  below.  "And,  if  I 
had,  I  wouldn't  break  it.  You  go 
home  to  your  dear  husband  and  fon- 
dle him.  When  you  come  back  in  the 
morning,  you  shall  see  what  a  cap- 
able woman  can  do  who  doesn't  waste 
her  time  on  love  and  emotions." 

The  mouse  went  away,  because  she 
had  other  things  to  see  to  and  also 
because  the  spider's  words  hurt  her. 
But  the  goat's-foot  and  the  fool's — 
parsley  were  obliged  to  remain  where 
they  were  and  so  were  the  long  twigs 
on  the  stubs.  And  the  spider  behaved 
in  such  a  curious  manner  that  none 
of  them  closed  an  eye  all  night  for 
looking  at  her. 

The  fact  is,  she  did  nothing  but  take 
headers  into  the  air.  She  jumped  first 
from  one  branch  and  then  from  an- 
14 


THE  SPIDER 

other,  then  crawled  up  again  and 
jumped  once  more.  And,  although 
she  had  no  wings,  as  any  one  could 
see,  she  let  herself  down  quite  slowly 
to  the  ground  or  to  another  branch, 
never  missed  her  jjimp  and  did  not 
come  to  the  least  harm.  To  and  fro, 
up  and  down  she  went,  the  whole 
night  long. 

"It  is  a  bird,"  said  the  parsley,  de- 
lightedly. 

"Of  course,"  said  the  goat's-foot. 
"What  else  could  it  be?" 

But  the  twigs  on  the  stubs  bobbed 
at  one  another  mockingly: 

"She's  never  been  a  bird  in  her  life," 
they  said.  "Can  she  sing?  Have  you 
heard  as  much  as  a  chirp  from  her?" 

The  goat's-foot  and  the  parsley 
looked  at  each  other  doubtfully.  And, 
when  the  spider  sat  still,  for  a  mo- 

15 


THE  SPIDER 

ment,  catching  her  breath,  the  pars- 
ley ventured  upon  a  question: 

"Can  you  sing?" 

"Pshaw!"  replied  the  spider.  "Do 
you  think  I  go  in  for  that  sort  of 
twaddle  ?  What  is  there  to  sing  about  ? 
Life  is  nothing  but  toil  and  drudg- 
ery and,  if  a  lone  woman  is  to  hold 
her  own,  she  must  turn  to  and  set  to 
work." 

"Birds  sing,"  said  the  goat's-foot. 

"They  sing  because  they  are  in 
love,"  said  the  spider.  "I  am  not  in 
love." 

"Wait  till  the  right  man  comes 
along,"  said  the  parsley. 

"If  he  does,  he'd  better  look  out," 
said  the  spider. 

Then  she  took  another  header;  and 
so  she  went  on. 


16 


THE  SPIDER 

3 

But,  when  the  day  began  to  break, 
the  goat's -foot  and  the  parsley  were 
near  snapping  with  surprise. 

The  spider  was  hanging  in  the  air 
between  their  branches.  She  had 
drawn  her  legs  up  under  her,  bun- 
dled herself  together  and  was  sleep- 
ing like  a  top. 

"Is  she  on  you?"  asked  the  goafs- 
foot. 

"No,"  replied  the  parsley.  "Is  she 
on  you?" 

"No,"  said  the  goafs-foot. 

"She's  not  on  us  either,"  said  the 
twigs. 

"It  is  a  bird,"  said  the  parsley  and 
the  goafs-foot,  enraptured. 

"A  bird  doesn't  hang  in  the  middle 
of  the  air,  sleeping,"  said  the  twigs. 

17 


THE  SPIDER 

"It's  an  elf,"  said  the  mouse,  who 
came  up  at  that  moment.  "Just  wait 
till  it's  quite  light:  then  perhaps  we 
shall  see." 

And,  when  the  sun  rose,  they  saw. 

In  between  the  branches  of  the 
goat's-foot  and  the  fool's-parsley 
were  stretched  a  number  of  very  fine 
threads,  which  crossed  one  another 
and  shone  in  the  sun  so  that  it  was  a 
delight  to  see.  Other  threads  ran 
across  them  in  circles,  one  outside  the 
other. 

"Ah!"  said  the  mouse.  "Now  I  un- 
derstand. She  was  sitting  in  the  mid- 
dle of  that.  But  where  has  she  gone 
to  now?" 

"Here  I  am,"  said  the  spider,  from 
under  a  leaf.  "I  can't  stand  the 
bright  sunlight.  What  do  you  think 
of  my  work?  But  I  haven't  finished 
yet."  is 


THE  SPIDER 

"Pish!"  said  the  mouse.  "Frankly 
speaking,  I  think  it's  a  funny  sort  of 
nest  you've  made." 

"Nest,  nest,  nest!"  said  the  spider. 
"It's  you  who've  been  talking  of  a 
nest,  not  I.  You  keep  on  taking  it 
for  granted  that  I  am  a  silly,  effem- 
inate woman  like  yourself  and  the 
others.  What  use  is  a  nest  to  me?  I'm 
all  right  here  under  this  leaf.  It's 
shady  here  and  good  enough  for  me. 
The  threads  are  my  web.  I  catch  flies 
in  it.  I  wonder,  shall  we  have  a  little 
rain?  Then  I  can  set  to  again  and 
finish  my  work." 

Presently,  the  sun  disappeared  be- 
hind the  clouds.  A  mild  and  gentle 
rain  fell  and  when  it  stopped  the 
spider  came  out  and  stretched  her 
eight  legs  contentedly  in  the  moist 
air. 

19 


THE  SPIDER 

And  then  she  set  to  work. 

They  all  saw  how  she  pulled  a  mul- 
titude of  very  fine  threads  at  a  time 
from  her  abdomen.  Then  she  began 
to  unravel  them  with  combs  which 
she  had  at  the  ends  of  her  legs,  twist- 
ed them  together  into  one  thick 
thread  and  hung  it  beside  the  others 
where  she  thought  that  the  opening 
was  too  large  or  the  net  not  strong 
enough.  All  the  threads  were  greasy 
and  sticky,  so  that  the  flies  would 
have  to  hang  fast  in  them.  Later  in 
the  day,  the  web  was  ready;  and  they 
all  admired  it  because  it  was  so 
pretty. 

"Now  I'm  settled,"  said  the  spider. 

At  that  moment  came  a  starling 
and  sat  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  long 
twigs : 

"Is  there  nothing  to  eat  here?"  he 
20 


THE  SPIDER 

asked.  "A  few  grubs?  A  spider  or 
so?" 

The  goafs-foot  and  the  parsley  said 
nothing:  they  almost  withered  with 
fright  at  the  idea  of  losing  their 
lodger.  The  mouse  made  off,  for 
safety's  sake,  but  the  twigs  on  the 
stubs  cried  with  one  breath  that  a 
nice  fat  spider  had  just  come  and 
had  spun  her  web  in  the  night. 

"I  can  see  none,"  said  the  starling 
and  flew  away. 

But  the  spider,  quick  as  lightning, 
had  let  herself  down  to  the  ground 
by  a  long  thread  and  lay  there  as  still 
as  if  she  were  dead.  Now  she  crept 
up  again  and  sat  in  the  middle  of 
her  web  with  all  her  eight  legs  out- 
stretched. 

"That  was  a  near  thing,"  she  said. 
"Now  my  turn's  coming." 
21 


THE  SPIDER 

Up  came  a  smart  little  fly,  who 
didn't  see  the  web  but  flew  in  and 
got  caught,  poor  fellow. 

"That's  an  earnest,"  said  the  spider. 

She  bit  the  fly  with  her  mandibles, 
which  were  filled  with  poison,  so  that 
he  died  at  once.  Then  she  ate  him. 
And  she  did  the  same  with  the  next 
three  that  came  into  the  web.  After 
that,  she  could  eat  no  more.  She  let 
a  good  many  little  insects,  that  had 
the  misfortune  to  get  caught,  hang 
and  sprawl,  without  stirring  a  limb. 
When  a  good  fat  fly  came  along, 
she  bit  him  dead,  spun  a  little  web 
round  him  and  hung  him  up : 

"He  may  come  in  handy  one  day, 
when  I  run  short,"  she  said. 

"Very  sensible,"  said  the  mouse. 
"That's  really  the  first  thing  you've 
said  that  I  can  agree  with.  But, 

22 


THE  SPIDER 

otherwise,  I  am  bound  to  say  I  don't 
care  for  your  ways.  They're  far  too 
sly  for  me.  And  then  you  use  poison, 
like  the  adder.  That,  I  think,  is 
mean." 

"You  think  so,  do  you?"  said  the 
spider,  with  a  sneer.  "Is  it  any  worse 
than  what  you  others  do?  I  suppose 
you  blow  a  trumpet  when  you  sneak 
out  after  your  prey;  eh,  you  pious 
little  mouse?" 

"Indeed  I  could,  if  I  had  a  trump- 
et," said  the  mouse.  "Thank  good- 
ness, I  am  not  a  robber  and  mur- 
derer like  yourself.  I  gather  nuts  and 
acorns  and  anything  else  that  comes 
to  hand  and  I  have  never  hurt  a 
soul." 

"No,  you're  a  dear  little  woman  of 
the  old-fashioned  sort,"  said  the  spi- 
der, "You  take  other  people's  leav- 

23 


THE  SPIDER 

ings  and  are  quite  happy.  Then  you 
go  home  and  let  your  husband  and 
children  pet  and  fondle  you.  I'm  not 
built  that  way,  let  me  tell  you.  I 
don't  care  for  caresses,  but  I  have  an 
appetite.  I  want  meat:  nice,  juicy 
fly-meat;  and  lots  of  it.  I  ask  no- 
thing of  anybody,  but  get  myself 
what  I  want.  If  things  go  well,  I 
have  all  the  honour  and  pleasure  my- 
self; if  they  go  badly,  I  don't  go  cry- 
ing to  anybody.  It  would  be  a  good 
thing  if  there  were  more  women  like 
me." 

"You're  so  rough,"  said  the  mouse. 

"Fiddlesticks!"  replied  the  spider. 
"It's  all  one.  I'm  no  worse  than  most 
people.  Take  the  goat's-foot  and  the 
parsley:  they  fight  for  the  butterflies 
and  bees  and  steal  each  other's  light 
and  air  as  much  as  they  can." 

24 


THE  SPIDER 

"Very  true,"  said  the  parsley. 

"An  exceedingly  sensible  woman," 
said  the  goafs-foot. 

"That's  such  an  ugly  name  of 
yours,"  said  the  mouse. 

"Can't  help  that,"  said  the  spider. 
"Some  people  call  me  venom -head,1 
because  of  those  few  drops  of  poison 
I  carry  in  my  mandibles.  They're  so 
immensely  upset  about  the  poor  flies 
I  catch ;  and  they  kill  a  fly  themselves 
if  he  only  settles  on  their  nose.  It's 
six  of  one  and  half  a  dozen  of  the 
other.  Nothing  but  sentimental  af- 
fectation. Besides,  I  have  no  objec- 
tion to  changing  my  name.  You  can 
call  me  spinner,  if  you  prefer.  That's 
a  word  which  a  dainty  little  lady  like 
you  can  pronounce  without  fainting; 
and  it  suits  me,  because  there's  not  an 

1  Danish :  Edderkop. 


THE  SPIDER 

animal  in  the  world  that  spins  as 
beautifully  as  I  do." 

"That's  all  very  likely,"  said  the 
mouse,  shaking  her  head.  "But  what 
you  do  is  ugly  and  you  yourself  are 
so  hideous  that  there's  no  excusing 
you." 

"Is  that  it?"  asked  the  spider  and 
laughed.  "Look  here,  little  Mrs. 
Mouse:  I'm  rationally  dressed.  My 
homely  gray  clothes  suit  my  work 
and  don't  attract  unnecessary  atten- 
tion. Thank  goodness,  I  don't  have 
to  dress  up  like  the  others,  who  deck 
themselves  out  to  obtain  love  and 
happiness  and  who  strut  and  swag- 
ger in  a  way  that  a  sensible  per- 
son would  be  ashamed  of.  But, 
of  course,  the  ninnies  despise  me 
for  my  plain  frocks.  Let  them! 
What  do  I  care  for  ninnies?  And, 

26 


THE  SPIDER 

if  they  come  into  my  meshes,  I'll 
eat  them." 

The  mouse  shook  her  head  and  went 
away.  The  parsley  and  the  goafs- 
foot  muttered  softly  to  each  other. 
The  spider  hung  in  her  net,  stretched 
her  legs  and  digested  her  food. 

When  the  sun  came  out,  she  crept 
under  her  leaf  and  then  the  mouse 
came  back  and  peeped  up: 

"Is  she  asleep?"  she  asked. 

"I  think  so,"  said  the  parsley.  "And 
you  had  better  not  wake  her  with 
your  chattering." 

"She's  our  bird,  once  and  for  all," 
said  the  goat's-foot.  "Though  she 
may  behave  differently  from  other 
birds,  she  has  done  us  the  honour  and 
shown  us  the  confidence  to  build  in 
us  and  therefore  we  ask  that  she  may 
be  respected." 

27 


THE  SPIDER 

"A  nice  sort  of  bird!"  said  the  twigs, 
with  a  sneer. 

"In  any  case,  she's  better  than  no- 
thing," said  the  parsley. 

"Such  louts  as  you  had  better  hold 
your  tongues,"  said  the  goat's-foot. 
"No  one  builds  in  you,  at  any  rate." 

"She's  not  a  bird,"  said  the  mouse. 
"But  that's  no  reason  why  she 
shouldn't  be  very  good.  Now  I  think 
that  she's  a  poor,  unhappy  old  maid, 
who  has  fallen  out  with  existence. 
Perhaps  her  sweetheart  jilted  her; 
that  leaves  a  wound.  My  first  hus- 
band ran  away  with  a  white  mouse, 
just  after  my  children  were  born.  So 
I  speak  from  experience." 

"That's  possible,"  said  the  parsley, 
thoughtfully.  "But  what  can  one  do 
in  a  case  like  that?" 

"We  must  try  and  make  her  hap- 

28 


THE   SPIDER 

py,"  said  the  mouse.  "If  she  goes  on 
leading  this  lonely  life,  she  will  grow 
more  bitter  every  day  and  at  last  all 
gentler  feelings  will  be  stifled  in  her. 
If  we  could  only  find  a  husband 
for  her!" 

"Yes,  if  we  only  could!"  said  the 
parsley. 

"Then  perhaps  she  would  build  a 
real  nest,  with  little  eggs  in  it,"  said 
the  goat's- foot. 

"Perhaps  she  would  sing  to  her 
young,"  said  the  parsley. 

"That  would  at  once  entitle  us  to 
rank  with  the  bushes,"  said  the  goafs- 
foot. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?" 
asked  the  spider,  putting  out  her 
head  from  under  the  leaf. 

"We're  talking  about  you,"  said  the 
mouse.  "We  were  saying  that  you 

29 


THE   SPIDER 

really  ought  to  get  married.  It's  not 
good,  in  the  long  run,  for  a  woman 
to  live  alone.  It  makes  her  queer  and 
sour.  If  you  only  knew  how  delight- 
ful it  is  to  see  one's  dear  little  young 
and  feed  them  and  educate  them!" 

"Stuff!"  said  the  spider. 

"It's  the  provision  of  nature,"  said 
the  mouse.  "And  I  will  do  what  I 
can  for  you,  no  matter  what  you  say. 
I  see  a  heap  of  spiders  daily  on  my 
way  along  the  hedge.  They  are  cer- 
tainly much  smaller  than  you,  but 
nice  fellows,  for  all  that.  Perhaps  I 
may  meet  a  big  one,  too.  Then  I 
shall  tell  him  that  there's  a  charming 
young  lady  over  here,  longing  for  a 
sweetheart." 

"Then  you'll  be  telling  an  awful 
lie,"  said  the  spider.  "And  you  needn't 
look  for  one  who  is  bigger  than  I, 

30 


THE  SPIDER 

for  our  men  are  all  miserable  under- 
sized vermin.  I  tell  you,  no  one  looks 
upon  them  as  worth  a  straw.  It's  long 
been  understood  among  us  that  it's 
only  the  women  that  are  good  for 
anything." 

"Well,  I'm  going,"  said  the  mouse. 
"I  shall  find  the  right  man  yet.  And 
I  feel  sure  that  you'll  be  much  more 
amiable  when  you're  in  love." 

"Run  away,  Mousie,"  said  the  spi- 
der. "The  man  who  can  please  me 
isn't  born  yet.  But  you  have  nothing 
in  your  head  but  love  and  nonsense." 

She  killed  a  fly,  spun  a  web  round 
him  and  hung  him  up  and  then  hid 
under  the  leaf.  The  mouse  went 
away,  the  parsley  and  the  goafs- 
foot  put  their  heads  together  and 
talked  of  the  future. 


31 


THE  SPIDER 

4 

The  next  morning,  a  really  nice 
gentleman-spider  was  sitting  on  the 
parsley,  but  a  good  way  off  from  the 
snappish  young  lady. 

Pie  had  brushed  his  clothes  and 
spun  a  couple  of  fine  threads  to  show 
what  he  could  do.  He  bent  and 
stretched  his  legs  for  her  to  see 
that  he  was  well-shaped.  Seven  of  his 
eyes  beamed  with  love,  while  the 
eighth  took  care  that  she  didn't  eat 
him: 

"Allow  me,  miss,  to  offer  you  my 
hand  and  heart,"  said  he. 

"He's  a  fair-spoken  man,"  said  the 
parsley. 

"A  charming  man,"  said  the  goafs- 
foot. 

"It  was  I  that  sent  him  here,"  said 
the  mouse. 

32 


THE  SPIDER 

"Idiot!"  said  the  damsel. 

But  the  spider  did  not  throw  up  the 
game  so  easily.  He  gracefully  bowed 
his  thorax,  set  two  of  his  eyes  to 
watch  that  nothing  happened  to  him 
and  looked  doubly  enamoured  with 
the  other  six: 

"Do  not  think  that  I  mean  to  be  a 
burden  to  you,"  he  said.  "I  have  my 
own  web  a  little  way  down  the  hedge 
and  I  can  easily  catch  the  few  flies  I 
require.  I  have  even  got  five  real  fat 
ones  hanging  and  spun  up,  which  I 
shall  esteem  it  an  honour  to  offer  you 
to-morrow,  so  that  you  may  see  that 
it  is  love  alone  that  urges  me  to  pro- 
pose to  you." 

"Is  that  you  talking  your  non- 
sense?" said  the  damsel.  "What  the 
blazes  should  I  do  with  such  a  silly 
man?" 

33 


THE  SPIDER 

"Dear  me!"  he  said — and  now  there 
was  only  one  eye  in  love,  so  fierce  was 
her  air — "If  my  courtship  seems  in- 
opportune to  you,  I  will  retire  at 
once  and  wait  till  another  time.  ..." 

"I  rather  think  that's  the  wisest 
thing  you  could  do,"  said  she.  "Clear 
out,  this  minute,  or  I'll  .  .  ." 

He  slid  down  a  thread  in  no  time 
and  she  after  him.  But  he  escaped 
and,  a  little  later,  she  was  sitting  in 
her  web  again,  looking  sourer  than 
ever. 

"What  a  woman!"  said  the  mouse. 

"Yes,  just  so!"  said  the  spider. 

"It  doesn't  do  to  take  the  first  that 
comes,"  said  the  parsley. 

"It's  only  that  he  wasn't  the  right 
one,"  said  the  goat's-foot. 

But  the  unfortunate  suitor  went 
round  the  hedge  telling  the  other 

34 


THE  SPIDER 

spiders  about  the  charming  and  re- 
markable lady  whose  web  hung  be- 
tween the  parsley  and  the  goafs- 
foot. 

"She  is  so  big,"  he  said,  spreading 
his  legs  as  wide  as  he  could.  "I  have 
never  seen  any  one  so  pretty  in  my 
life.  But  she's  as  proud  as  a  peacock. 
I  shall  certainly  die  of  grief  at  her 
refusal.  In  any  case,  one  thing  is 
sure,  that  I  shall  never  marry." 

They  listened  to  him  wide-eyed  and 
made  him  tell  them  again.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  story  of  the  proud 
and  beautiful  spider-princess  went 
the  round  of  the  hedge.  As  soon  as 
the  men  had  finished  their  day's 
work,  they  came  together  and  sat  and 
talked  about  her.  Each  of  them  had 
his  own  observations  to  make,  but 
gradually  they  were  all  so  excited 

35 


THE  SPIDER 

with  love  that  they  thought  they  sim- 
ply could  not  live  unless  they  won 
the  fair  one. 

One  after  the  other,  they  set  out 
a-wooing  and  they  all  fared  badly. 

The  first  was  a  dashing1  fellow,  who 
had  chaffed  the  unfortunate  suitor 
mercilessly  for  promising  her  the  five 
flies  which  he  had  got  spun  up  at 
home  in  his  web: 

"Women  don't  care  a  hang  for 
promises,"  he  said.  "They  like  their 
presents  down,  then  and  there.  You 
just  watch  me." 

He  came  dragging  a  splendid  blue- 
bottle along  and  laid  it  without  a 
word  at  the  damsel's  feet. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  allow  a  man 
to  support  me?"  she  said. 

Before  he  could  look  round,  she  had 
caught  him  and  eaten  him  up.  She 

36 


THE  SPIDER 

scornfully  let  the  fly  be,  but,  later  in 
the  afternoon,  when  she  thought  no 
one  saw  her,  she  came  down  notwith- 
standing and  ate  it. 

And  the  wooers  that  came  after 
fared  not  a  whit  better. 

She  ate  six  of  them  in  the  middle 
of  their  speech  and  two  had  not  even 
time  to  open  their  mouths.  One  was 
caught  by  the  starling,  just  as  he  was 
about  to  make  his  bow,  and  one  fell 
into  the  ditch  with  fright,  when  she 
looked  at  him,  and  was  drowned. 

"That  makes  twelve,"  said  the 
mouse. 

"I  have  not  counted  them,"  said  the 
spider.  "But  now  I  presume  they'll 
leave  me  in  peace." 

"You're  a  terrible  woman,"  said  the 
mouse.  "I  prophesy  you'll  end  by 
going  childless  to  your  grave." 

37 


THE  SPIDER 

For  the  first  time,  the  spider  seemed 
a  little  pensive. 

"Now  her  hard  heart  is  melting," 
said  the  mouse. 

"Oh!"  said  the  wild  parsley. 

"Ah!"  said  the  goat's-foot. 

"Stuff!"  said  the  spider. 

But  she  continued  to  look  pensive 
and  stared  at  her  combs  and  never 
noticed  that  a  fly  flew  into  her  web. 
Presently,  she  said: 

"The  fact  is,  one  ought  at  least  to 
see  that  one  brings  a  pair  of  strap- 
ping wenches  into  the  world.  I  sup- 
pose it's  my  duty  to  leave  somebody 
behind  me  to  inherit  my  contempt 
for  those  wretched  men." 

"She's  on  the  road!"  whispered  the 
mouse. 

And  the  goat's-foot  and  the  fool's- 
parsley  nodded  and  neither  of  them 

38 


THE  SPIDER 

said  a  word,  so  as  not  to  disturb  her 
in  her  reflections. 

But  the  mouse  hurried  off  to  the 
hedge  and  called  all  the  surviving 
gentleman-spiders  together : 

"The  one  who  proposes  to  the  prin- 
cess to-morrow  gets  her,"  said  she. 
"She's  quite  altered.  She's  melted. 
Her  heart  is  like  wax.  She  won't 
catch  any  flies,  won't  eat,  won't  drink 
and  just  sits  and  stares  wistfully  be- 
fore her.  Look  sharp!" 

Then  the  mouse  ran  away. 

But  the  spiders  looked  at  one  an- 
other doubtfully.  Not  one  of  them 
had  the  proper  courage  to  risk  the 
attempt,  seeing  how  badly  the  twelve 
had  fared,  and  a  few  even  of  the 
wiser  ones  went  up  at  once  and  hid 
under  their  leaves,  so  as  not  to  fall 
into  temptation. 

39 


THE  SPIDER 

A  few  remained  behind,  who 
thought  about  what  the  mouse  had 
said,  including  one  little  young,  thin 
one,  who  had  always  listened  while 
the  others  were  talking  about  the 
wonderful  princess,  but  had  never 
said  anything  himself: 

"I  think  I'll  try,"  he  said,  suddenly. 

"You?"  cried  all  the  others,  in  one 
breath. 

And  they  began  to  laugh  at  the 
thought  that  this  chap  should  achieve 
what  so  many  a  bold  spider-fellow 
had  lost  his  life  in  attempting. 

But  the  little  chap  let  them  laugh 
as  much  as  they  pleased: 

"I  don't  suppose  I'm  poaching  on 
your  preserves,"  he  said.  "There's 
none  of  you  that  has  the  pluck.  And 
I  just  feel  like  making  the  experi- 
ment. I've  been  there  to  look  at  her 

40 


THE  SPIDER 

and,  by  Jove,  she  is  a  fine  woman! 
If  she's  rejected  the  twelve,  perhaps 
she'll  accept  the  thirteenth.  Also,  I 
think  the  suitors  went  the  wrong  way 
to  work." 

"Oh,  you  think  so,  do  you?"  said 
the  others,  still  laughing.  "And  how 
will  you  go  to  work?" 

"You  can  come  with  me  and  see  for 
yourselves,"  he  said.  "I'll  stroll  across 
to-morrow  and  propose." 

5 

And  he  did,  the  next  morning. 

He  came  crawling  up  on  his  eight 
legs,  very  sedately  and  circumspectly. 
A  little  behind  him  came  all  that  was 
left  in  the  way  of  man-spiders  in  the 
hedge.  The  long  twigs  on  the  stubs 
stretched  out  their  necks  to  see  him. 
The  parsley  and  the  goat's-foot 
41 


THE  SPIDER 

spread  out  both  flowers  and  leaves, 
to  make  his  road  as  easy  as  possible. 
The  mouse  stood  on  her  hindlegs 
with  curiosity  and  stared  and  lis- 
tened. 

The  princess  herself  sat  in  her  web 
and  pretended  not  to  see  him. 

"Noble  princess,"  he  said,  "I  have 
come  to  ask  you  if  you  will  have  me 
for  your  husband." 

"This  is  the  thirteenth,"  she  said. 

But  within  herself  she  thought  that 
she  liked  him  better  than  the  others. 
They  had  all  wanted  to  take  her  for 
their  wife:  this  one  begged  her  to 
take  him  for  her  husband.  That 
sounded  modest  and  well-mannered. 

"She's  giving  way,"  said  the  mouse 
and  danced  with  rapture. 

"Hush!"  said  the  parsley. 

"Hark!"  said  the  goat's-foot. 

42 


THE  SPIDER 

"She  hasn't  eaten  him  yet!"  whis- 
pered the  gentleman-spiders  to  one 
another. 

"I  well  know,"  said  the  wooer,  "how 
presumptuous  it  is  of  me  to  address 
such  a  request  to  you.  What  is  a 
wretched  man  compared  with  a  wo- 
man and,  in  particular,  what  is  a  silly 
fellow  like  myself  to  you,  who  are 
the  largest  and  cleverest  lady  in  all 
the  hedge?  But  that  is  just  what  at- 
tracts me  to  you." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  He 
nearly  fell  to  the  ground  with  fright 
and  cast  his  eight  eyes  down  before 
him.  All  the  other  gentleman-spiders 
rushed  away  at  a  furious  pace. 

"Now  she'll  eat  him,"  said  the 
goat's-foot  and  the  parsley. 

"She  is  a  sweet  young  thing!"  said 
the  twigs  on  the  stubs. 

43 


THE  SPIDER 

"She's  a  terrible  woman!"  said  the 
mouse. 

But  she  did  not  eat  him. 

She  caught  a  fly  that  flew  into  her 
web  just  then  and  began  leisurely 
to  devour  it,  while  attentively  con- 
templating her  suitor. 

He  was  an  ugly  little  beggar,  es- 
pecially now,  when  he  was  shaking 
all  over  his  body,  because  he  thought 
that  his  last  hour  had  struck.  But 
that  was  just  how  she  liked  to  see 
him.  She  thought  that  quite  the  right 
attitude  for  a  man.  And,  when  he 
saw  that  she  gave  no  sign  of  making 
for  him,  he  recovered  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  he  was  able  to  finish  his 
speech : 

"I  quite  understand  that  you  can't 
see  anything  at  all  good-looking  in 
me,"  he  said.  "I  don't  want  to  make 
44 


THE  SPIDER 

myself  out  better  than  I  am;  and  I 
am  only  a  miserable  man.  But,  if  I 
could  become  the  father  of  a  daugh- 
ter who  was  like  you,  I  should  con- 
sider that  I  had  attained  the  object 
of  my  life  and  give  thanks  most 
humbly  for  my  good  fortune." 

Then  a  wonderful  thing  came  to 
pass.  She  took  the  leg  of  a  fly  and 
threw  it  to  him,  which  among  spi- 
ders means  the  same  as  "yes." 

Quivering  with  happiness  and  ap- 
prehension, he  crept  nearer  to  her. 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "I  accept 
you.  But  mind  you  don't  irritate  me. 
For  then  I'll  eat  you." 

"She's  accepted  him!"  said  the 
mouse  and  swooned  away  with  de- 
light. 

"She's  accepted  him!"  said  the 
goat's-f oot  and  the  parsley. 

45 


THE   SPIDER 

"She's  accepted  him!"  said  the  twigs 
on  the  stubs  and  rustled  for  sheer 
astonishment. 

"She's  accepted  him!"  cried  the  gen- 
tleman-spiders, who  had  come  back, 
but  now  ran  away  again,  partly  to 
spread  the  news  in  the  hedge  and 
partly  so  as  not  to  be  eaten  at  the 
wedding. 

And  it  was  a  wedding. 

The  whole  hedge  was  a  scene  of 
jubilation  and  the  mouse  was  the 
gladdest  of  them  all,  for  it  was  her 
doing.  Or  perhaps  the  fool's-parsley 
and  the  goat's-foot  were  gladder  still, 
for  they  would  now  have  that  fam- 
ily-life in  their  tops  which  they 
had  so  often  longed  for  and  which 
would  raise  them  to  the  level  of  the 
real  bushes.  As  for  the  twigs  on  the 
old  stubs,  they  were  infected  with 

46 


THE   SPIDER 

the  universal  joy  and  forgot  their 
envy. 

The  wedding  took  place  forthwith, 
for  there  was  nothing  to  wait  for. 
The  parsley  and  the  goat's-foot  scat- 
tered their  white  flowers  on  every 
side  to  mark  the  festival.  The  mouse 
dragged  her  little  ones  up  the  hedge 
so  that  they  might  see  the  happy 
bridal  pair;  the  bluebell  rang,  the 
poppy  laughed  and  the  bindweed 
closed  her  petals  half  an  hour  earlier 
than  usual  so  as  not  to  embarrass  the 
newly-married  couple  with  a  mis- 
placed curiosity. 

The  bride  ate  all  the  flies  that  she 
had  spun  up,  without  offering  the 
bridegroom  one.  But  that  did  not 
matter,  for  he  was  up  to  the  throat 
in  happiness,  so  he  could  not  have 
got  a  morsel  down  in  any  case.  He 

47 


THE  SPIDER 

made  himself  as  small  as  possible. 
Once,  when  she  stroked  him  on  the 
back  with  one  of  her  combs,  he  shook 
till  they  thought  that  he  would  die. 

6 

The    mouse    was    astir    early    next 
morning : 

"Have  you  seen  nothing  of  the 
young  couple?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  said  the  parsley. 

"They're  asleep,"  said  the  goafs- 
foot. 

"Ah!"  said  the  mouse.  "What  a 
good  thing  that  we  got  her  married 
at  last.  Now  you'll  see  how  sweet 
and  amiable  she  will  become.  There 
is  no  end  to  the  wonders  that  love 
can  work.  And  when  the  children 
come!  .  .  ." 

"Do  you  think  she'll  sing  then?" 
asked  the  goafs-foot. 

48 


THE  SPIDER 

"I  shall  hope  for  the  best,"  said  the 
mouse.  "She  does  not  look  as  if  she 
had  a  voice,  but,  as  I  said — love! 
Now  you'll  just  see,  when  she  comes, 
what  a  radiance  there  will  be  about 
her.  I  half  doubt  if  we  shall  know 
her  when  we  see  her." 

And  the  mouse  laughed  and  the 
parsley  and  the  goat's-foot  laughed 
and  the  sun  rose  and  laughed  with 
the  rest. 

Then  the  spider  came  crawling 
from  under  her  leafy  hiding-place. 

"Good  luck!  Good  luck!"  squeaked 
the  mouse. 

"Good  luck!  Good  luck!"  said  the 
parsley  and  the  goat's-foot. 

The  spider  stretched  herself  and 
yawned.  Then  she  went  off  and  sat 
in  her  web,  as  though  nothing  had 
happened. 

49 


THE  SPIDER 

"Where's  the  husband?"  asked  the 
mouse.  "Won't  he  get  out  of  bed?" 

"I've  eaten  him  this  morning,"  re- 
plied the  spider. 

The  mouse  gave  a  scream  that  was 
heard  all  over  the  hedge.  The  parsley 
and  the  goafs-foot  trembled  so  that 
all  their  flowers  fell  off.  The  twigs 
snapped  as  though  a  storm  were  rag- 
ing. 

"He  looked  so  stupid  and  ugly  as 
he  sat  there  beside  me,"  said  the  spi- 
der; "so  I  ate  him.  He  could  have 
staid  away!" 

"Heaven  preserve  us  all!"  screamed 
the  mouse.  "To  eat  one's  own,  lawful 
husband !" 

"Oh  dear,  oh  dear!"  said  the  goat's- 
foot  and  the  parsley. 

"Stuff!"  said  the  spider. 


50 


THE  SPIDER 

7 

That  day  was  very  quiet  in  the 
hedge  and  the  next  was  no  livelier. 

The  spider  attended  to  her  web  and 
caught  and  ate  more  flies  than  ever. 
She  did  not  speak  a  word  and  looked 
so  fierce  that  no  one  dared  speak  a 
word  to  her.  The  gentleman-spiders 
took  good  care  not  to  come  near  her. 
They  met  every  evening  and  talked 
about  it. 

"Yes,  but  he  got  her  all  the  same!" 
said  the  most  romantic  of  them. 

Then  the  others  fell  upon  him  and 
asked  him  if  he  thought  that  that 
was  happiness,  to  be  eaten  by  one's 
wife  on  the  morning  after  the  wed- 
ding. And  he  didn't  know  what  to 
answer,  for  his  romance  wasn't  so 
very  real,  after  all. 

51 


THE  SPIDER 

The  mouse  stole  away  dejectedly 
and  went  to  her  hole.  She  took  the 
thing  to  heart  as  though  it  had  hap- 
pened in  her  own  family.  The  goafs- 
foot  and  the  parsley  hung  their 
screens  and  felt  sheepish  and  ashamed 
in  the  face  of  the  twigs  on  the  stubs. 
And  so  great  was  their  overthrow 
that  even  the  twigs  thought  it  would 
be  a  shame  to  scoff  at  them. 

But,  one  day,  when  there  was  a  blaz- 
ing sun  and  the  spider  had  crawled 
as  far  as  she  could  into  the  shade  of 
the  leaf,  the  parsley  bent  down  to 
the  mouse's  hole  and  whispered: 

"Psst!  .  .  .  Mousiel  .  .  ." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  mouse  and 
came  out. 

"It's  only  the  goat's-foot  and  I  who 
have  something  to  ask  you,"  said  the 
parsley.  "Tell  me — you're  so  clever 

52 


THE  SPIDER 

— don't  you  believe  that  it's  possible 
that  the  spider  may  become  a  differ- 
ent person  when  she  begins  to  lay 
her  eggs?" 

"I  believe  nothing  now,"  said  the 
mouse.  "I  shall  never  believe  that 
that  woman  will  ever  lay  eggs." 

But  she  did,  for  all  that. 

One  fine  morning,  she  began  and 
behaved  in  such  a  way  that  no  one  in 
the  hedge  ever  forgot  the  story: 

"Ugh!"  she  said.  "That  one  should 
be  bothered  with  this  nonsense  with 
children  now!" 

She  laid  a  heap  of  ten  eggs  and 
stood  looking  at  them,  angrily. 

"Build  a  nest  for  your  eggs,"  said 
the  parsley.  "All  that  we  have  and 
possess  is  at  your  disposal." 

"Sit  on  them  and  hatch  them,"  said 
the  goat's-foot.  "We  will  weave  a 

53 


THE  SPIDER 

roof  over  you,  so  the  sun  won't  in- 
convenience you  in  the  least." 

"Lay  up  some  small  flies  for  the 
children,  for  when  they  come  out," 
said  the  mouse.  "You  have  no  idea 
what  those  young  ones  can  eat." 

"Practise  singing  to  them  a  bit," 
said  the  twigs  on  the  stubs. 

"Stuff!"  said  the  spider. 

She  laid  four  more  heaps.  Then  she 
began  to  spin  a  fine,  close  covering 
of  white  threads  to  wrap  each  heap 
in  separately. 

"She's  not  quite  heartless,"  said  the 
mouse. 

The  spider  took  a  heap,  went  down 
the  hedge  and  buried  it  in  the 
ground.  Then  up  again  for  the  next 
heap  and  so  on  until  all  the  five 
heaps  were  buried. 

"There!"    she    said.    "Now    that's 

54 


THE   SPIDER 

done  with!  Arid  they  won't  catch  me 
at  it  again.  Now  at  least  I  am  a  free 
and  independent  woman  once  more." 

"A  nice  woman!"  said  the  mouse. 
"A  shame  and  a  disgrace  to  her  sex, 
that's  what  she  is!" 

"Such  a  dear  little  bird!"  said  the 
twigs  on  the  stubs,  sarcastically. 

But  the  parsley  and  the  goafs-foot 
said  nothing. 

The  next  morning  the  spider  was 
gone. 

"The  starling  caught  her,"  said  the 
mouse.  "She  was  gone  in  a  twinkling. 
I  saw  it  myself." 

"If  only  she  doesn't  make  him  ill," 
said  the  twigs.  "She  must  have  been 
a  bad  mouthful." 

Then  autumn  came  and  winter. 
The  mouse  sat  snug  in  her  hole  and 

55 


THE  SPIDER 

the  spider's  eggs  lay  snug  in  the 
ground.  The  goat's-foot  and  the 
parsley  withered  and  died.  The 
twigs  on  the  stubs  lost  their  leaves, 
but  rustled  on  through  storm  and 
frost  and  snow  until  next  spring. 


56 


THE    MIST 


THE    MIST 


THE  sun  had  just  set. 

The  frog  was  croaking  his  even- 
song, which  took  so  long  that  there 
seemed  to  be  no  end  to  it.  The  bee 
crept  into  her  hive  and  the  little  chil- 
dren cried  because  it  was  bed-time. 
The  flowers  closed  their  petals  and 
bent  their  heads,  the  bird  hid  his  beak 
under  his  wing  and  the  stag  lay  down 
to  rest  in  the  tall,  soft  grass  of  the 
glade. 

The  bells  of  the  village-church  rang 
in  the  night  and,  when  that  was 
done,  the  old  sexton  went  off  home, 

59 


THE  MIST 

chatted  a  little  with  the  villagers  who 
were  taking  their  evening  stroll  or 
standing  at  their  doors  smoking  a 
pipe,  bade  them  good-night  and  shut 
his  door. 

By  and  by,  it  was  quite  still  and 
darkness  fell.  There  was  still  a  light 
in  the  parsonage  and  at  the  doctor's. 
But  at  the  farm-houses  it  was  dark, 
for  the  farmers  rise  early  in  the  sum- 
mer and  therefore  have  to  go  early 
to  bed. 

Then  the  stars  shone  forth  in  the 
sky  and  the  moon  rose  higher  and 
higher.  A  dog  barked  down  in  the 
village.  But  he  was  certainly  dream- 
ing, for  there  was  really  nothing  to 
bark  at. 


60 


THE  MIST 


"Is  any  one  here?"  asked  the  mist. 

But  no  one  answered,  for  there  was 
no  one  there. 

So  the  mist  went  on  in  his  light, 
gleaming  clothes.  He  danced  over 
the  meadows,  up  and  down,  to  and 
fro.  Now  he  would  lie  quite  still  for 
a  while  and  then  begin  to  dance 
again.  He  skipped  across  the  pond 
and  into  the  wood,  where  he  flung  his 
long,  wet  arms  round  the  trunks  of 
the  trees. 

"Who  are  you,  friend?"  asked  the 
night-scented  rocket,  who  stood  and 
distilled  her  perfume  for  her  own 
pleasure. 

The  mist  did  not  reply,  but  went  on 
dancing. 

"I  asked  who  you  were,"  said  the 

61 


THE  MIST 

rocket.  "And,  as  you  don't  answer 
me,  I  conclude  that  you  are  an  ill- 
mannered  churl." 

"I'll  conclude  you!"  said  the  mist. 

And  he  lay  down  round  the  night- 
scented  rocket,  till  her  petals  were 
dripping  wet. 

"Hi!  Hi!"  screamed  the  rocket. 
"Keep  your  fingers  to  yourself,  my 
friend!  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  dipped 
in  the  pond.  You  needn't  be  so  angry, 
just  because  I  ask  you  who  you  are." 

The  mist  rose  up  again: 

"Who  I  am?"  he  repeated.  "Why, 
you  wouldn't  understand  if  I  told 

you." 

"Try,"  said  the  rocket. 

"I  am  the  dew-drop  on  the  flowers, 
the  cloud  in  the  sky  and  the  mist  on 
the  fields,"  he  answered. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  said  the  rock- 
62 


THE  MIST 

et.  "Would  you  mind  saying  that 
again?  Why,  I  know  the  dew-drop. 
He  settles  on  my  petals  every  morn- 
ing ;  and  I  don't  see  any  resemblance 
between  you." 

"Ah,  I  am  the  dew-drop,  for  all 
that!"  said  the  mist,  sadly.  "But  no- 
body knows  me.  I  have  to  spend  my 
life  in  many  shapes.  Sometimes  I  am 
dew  and  sometimes  I  am  rain  and 
sometimes  I  trickle  in  the  form  of  a 
clear,  cool  spring  through  the  wood. 
But,  when  I  dance  over  the  meadow 
in  the  evening,  then  people  say  that 
the  mist  is  rising." 

"That's  a  queer  story,"  said  the 
rocket.  "Have  you  any  more  to  tell 
me  ?  The  night  is  long  and  sometimes 
I  feel  a  little  bored." 

"It  is  a  sad  story,"  answered  the 
mist.  "But  you  shall  hear  it  if  you 
like."  63 


THE  MIST 

And  he  made  as  though  to  lie  down, 
but  the  night-scented  rocket  shook  all 
her  petals  in  alarm. 

"Be  so  good  and  keep  a  little  far- 
ther off,"  she  said,  "at  least,  until 
you  have  introduced  yourself  prop- 
erly. I  have  never  cared  to  be  inti- 
mate with  people  whom  I  don't 
know." 

The  mist  lay  down  a  few  steps  away 
and  began  his  story: 

"I  was  born  deep  down  in  the 
ground,"  he  said,  "much  deeper  than 
your  roots  grow.  I  and  my  brothers 

—for  you  must  know  that  we  are  a 
big  family — came  into  the  world  in 
the  shape  of  clear  crystal  spring-wa- 
ter and  lay  long  in  our  hiding-place. 
But,  one  day,  we  sprang  suddenly 
from  under  a  gentle  hill,  into  the 
midst  of  the  full,  bright  sunshine. 

64 


THE  MIST 

Believe  me,  it  was  delightful  to  run 
through  the  wood.  We  rippled  over 
the  stones  and  splashed  against  the 
banks.  Dear  little  fishes  played 
among  us  and  the  trees  bent  over  us 
and  reflected  their  green  splendour. 
If  a  leaf  fell,  we  rocked  it  and  ca- 
ressed it  and  bore  it  into  the  wide 
world.  Oh,  how  delightful  it  was!  It 
was  really  the  happiest  time  in  my 
life." 

"Shall  I  soon  hear  how  you  came  to 
be  mist?"  asked  the  night-scented 
rocket,  impatiently.  "I  know  the 
brook.  On  a  very  still  night,  I  can 
hear  her  babbling  from  where  I 
stand." 

The  mist  rose  and  took  a  little 
dance  across  the  meadow.  Then  he 
came  back  and  continued: 

"That  is  the  worst  of  this  world; 

65 


THE  MIST 

we  are  never  satisfied  with  what  we 
have.  For  instance,  we  ran  on  and  on 
until,  at  last,  we  came  to  a  big  lake, 
where  the  water-lilies  rocked  on  the 
wrater  and  the  dragon-flies  buzzed 
around  on  their  great  stiff  wings.  On 
the  surface,  the  water  was  as  clear  as 
a  mirror;  but,  whether  we  wanted 
to  or  not,  we  had  to  run  along  the 
bottom  and  there  it  was  dark  and 
dismal.  I  could  not  bear  it.  I  longed 
for  the  sun-beams.  I  knew  them  so 
well  from  the  time  when  I  ran  in  the 
brook.  Now  they  looked  down  upon 
us  through  the  leaves  and  cast  a 
bright  light  over  me.  I  wanted  to  see 
them  again  and  therefore  I  crept  up 
to  the  surface  and  lay  down  in  the 
sunshine  among  the  white  water- 
lilies  and  their  big  green  leaves.  But 
oh,  how  the  sun  burnt  upon  the  lake! 


THE  MIST 

It  was  almost  unendurable  and  I 
bitterly  regretted  that  I  had  not 
remained  at  the  bottom." 

"All  this  is  very  dull,"  said  the  rock- 
et. "When  are  we  coming  to  the 
mist?" 

"Here  he  is!"  said  the  mist  and  lay 
down  around  the  flower,  who  almost 
lost  her  breath. 

"Hi!  Hi!"  screamed  the  rocket. 
"You're  the  roughest  playfellow  I 
know.  Go  away  and  tell  your  story 
in  your  own  manner,  if  you  must." 

"In  the  evening,  when  the  sun  had 
gone  down,  I  suddenly  became  won- 
derfully light,"  said  the  mist.  "I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  I 
felt  that  I  must  rise  up  and  fly  away 
from  the  lake.  And,  in  fact,  before  I 
knew  it,  I  was  hovering  over  the  wa- 
ter, away  from  the  dragon-flies  and 
67 


THE  MIST 

the  water-lilies.  The  evening-wind 
carried  me  along;  I  flew  high  in  the 
air  and  there  I  met  many  of  my 
brothers,  who  had  been  as  inquisitive 
as  I  and  had  met  with  the  same  for- 
tune. We  were  wafted  up  to  the  sky ; 
we  had  turned  into  clouds:  do  you 
understand?" 

"I  am  not  quite  sure,"  said  the  rock- 
et. "It  does  not  sound  very  probable." 

"But  it's  true,  for  all  that,"  said 
the  mist.  "Now  listen.  The  wind  car- 
ried us  for  some  time  through  the 
sky.  Then,  suddenly,  he  grew  tired 
of  us  and  let  us  go.  And  we  fell  down 
upon  the  earth  in  pouring  rain.  The 
flowers  lost  no  time  in  closing  their 
petals  and  the  birds  took  shelter,  all 
except  the  ducks  and  geese,  who  were 
the  better  pleased  the  wetter  it  was. 
Oh;  and  the  farmer,  too:  he  stood 

68 


THE  MIST 

there  rejoicing,  because  his  crops 
needed  rain.  He  did  not  care  how 
wet  he  got.  But,  otherwise,  we  really 
caused  a  great  disturbance." 

"Ah,  so  you're  the  rain  too,  are 
you?"  asked  the  night-scented  rocket. 
"I  say,  you  seem  to  have  plenty  to 
do." 

"Yes,  I  never  have  any  rest,"  said 
the  mist. 

"All  the  same,  I  haven't  yet  heard 
how  you  became  mist,"  said  the  rock- 
et. "Now  don't  fly  into  a  passion 
again:  you  promised  to  tell  me  and 
I  would  rather  hear  the  whole  story 
over  again  than  once  more  shiver  in 
your  horrid  damp  arms." 

The  mist  lay  and  wept  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  continued: 

"When  I  had  fallen  on  the  ground 
as  rain,  I  sank  through  the  black 

69 


THE  MIST 

earth  and  was  glad  to  think  I  was 
returning  to  my  native  place,  the 
deep  subterranean  source.  There  at 
least  I  had  known  peace  and  been 
free  from  cares.  But,  just  as  I  was 
sinking,  the  roots  of  the  trees  sucked 
me  up  again  and,  all  day  long,  I  had 
to  wander  around  in  the  branches 
and  leaves.  They  used  me  as  a  beast 
of  burden,  you  see.  I  had  to  drag  up 
from  the  roots  all  the  food  that  the 
leaves  and  flowers  needed.  I  was  not 
free  until  the  evening.  When  the  sun 
had  gone  down,  all  the  trees  and 
flowers  heaved  deep  sighs  and  in  their 
sighs  my  brothers  and  I  were  sent 
forth  as  a  light,  gleaming  mist.  At 
night,  we  dance  over  the  fields.  But, 
in  the  morning,  when  the  sun  rises, 
we  turn  into  beautiful,  clear  dew- 
drops  and  come  and  hang  on  your 
70 


THE  MIST 

petals.  Then  you  shake  us  off  and  we 
sink  deeper  and  deeper  until  we  come 
to  the  source  where  we  were  born, 
unless  some  root  or  other  snatches 
us  up  on  the  way.  And  so  it  goes 
on:  through  the  brook,  into  the  lake, 
up  in  the  sky  and  back  again  to 
earth  .  .  ." 

"Stop!"  cried  the  night-scented 
rocket.  "It  makes  my  head  swim  to 
listen  to  you!" 

3 

Now  the  frog  began  to  stir.  He 
stretched  his  legs  and  went  down  to 
the  ditch  to  take  his  morning  bath. 
The  birds  began  to  chirp  in  the 
wood  and  the  stag  belled  among 
the  trees. 

Morning  began  to  break  and  the 
sun  peeped  over  the  hill: 

71 


THE   MIST 

"What's  this?"  he  said.  "What  does 
it  all  mean?  One  can't  see  one's  hand 
before  one's  eyes.  Morning-wind! 
Up  with  you,  you  sluggard,  and 
blow  that  nasty  mist  away!" 

And  the  morning-wind  flew  across 
the  fields  and  blew  away  the  mist.  At 
the  same  moment,  the  sun  sent  his 
first  rays  straight  down  upon  the 
night-scented  rocket. 

"Hullo!"  said  the  flower.  "Here's 
the  sun!  Now  I  must  be  quick 
and  close  my  petals.  Where  in  the 
name  of  wonder  has  the  mist  gone 
to?" 

"Here  I  am,"  said  the  dew-drop 
hanging  from  her  stalk. 

But  the  night-scented  rocket  shook 
her  head  fretfully: 

"Tell  that  to  the  children,"  she  said. 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  all  you've 

72 


THE   MIST 

said.  You're  just  water  and  nothing 
more." 

"You're  right  enough  there!"  said 
the  sun.  And  he  laughed. 


73 


THE   ANEMONES 


THE   ANEMONES 


"  PEEWIT!  Peewit!"  cried  the  lap- 
wing, as  he  flew  over  the  moss  in  the 
wood.  "Dame  Spring  is  coming!  I 
can  feel  it  in  my  legs  and  wings." 

When  the  new  grass,  which  lay 
down  below  in  the  earth,  heard  this, 
it  at  once  began  to  sprout  and  peeped 
out  gaily  between  the  old,  yellow 
straw.  For  the  grass  is  always  in  an 
immense  hurry. 

Now  the  anemones  in  between  the 
trees  had  also  heard  the  lapwing's 
cry,  but  refused  on  any  account  to 
appear  above  the  earth. 
77 


THE  ANEMONES 

"You  mustn't  believe  the  lapwing," 
they  whispered  to  one  another.  "He 
is  a  flighty  customer,  whom  one  can't 
trust.  He  always  comes  too  early  and 
starts  calling  at  once.  No,  we  will 
wait  quite  quietly  till  the  starling 
and  the  swallow  come.  They  are  sen- 
sible, sober  people,  who  are  not  to 
be  taken  in  and  who  know  what  they 
are  about." 

And  the  starlings  came. 

They  sat  down  on  a  twig  outside 
their  summer  villa  and  looked  about 
them. 

"Too  early,  as  usual,"  said  Mr. 
Starling.  "Not  a  green  leaf  and  not 
a  fly,  except  an  old  tough  one  of  last 
year,  not  worth  opening  one's  beak 
for." 

Mrs.    Starling    said    nothing,    but 
looked  none  too  cheerful  either. 
78 


THE  ANEMONES 

"If  we  had  only  remained  in  our 
snug  winter-quarters  beyond  the 
mountains!"  said  Mr.  Starling.  He 
was  angry  because  his  wife  did  not 
answer,  for  he  was  so  cold  that  he 
thought  a  little  discussion  might  do 
him  good.  "But  it's  your  fault,  just 
as  last  year.  You're  always  in  such 
a  terrible  hurry  to  go  to  the  coun- 
try." 

"If  I'm  in  a  hurry,  I  know  the 
reason  why,"  said  Mrs.  Starling. 
"And  it  would  be  a  shame  for  you  if 
you  didn't  know  too,  for  they  are 
your  eggs  as  well  as  mine." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  replied  Mr.  Star- 
ling, indignantly.  "When  have  I  de- 
nied my  family?  Perhaps  you  expect 
me,  over  and  above,  to  sing  to  you  in 
the  cold?" 

"Yes,  that  I  do!"  said  Mrs.  Star- 

79 


THE  ANEMONES 

ling,  in  the  tone  which  he  could  not 
resist. 

He  at  once  began  to  whistle  as  best 
he  could.  But,  when  Mrs.  Starling 
had  heard  the  first  notes,  she  flapped 
her  wings  and  pecked  at  him  with 
her  beak: 

"Will  you  be  quiet  at  once!"  she 
screamed,  angrily.  "That  sounds  so 
dismal  that  it  makes  one  quite  melan- 
choly. You'd  better  see  to  it  that  the 
anemones  come  out.  I  think  it's  high 
time.  And,  besides,  one  always  feels 
warmer  when  there  are  others  shiv- 
ering too." 

Now,  as  soon  as  the  anemones  had 
heard  the  starling's  first  whistle,  they 
carefully  stuck  their  heads  out  of  the 
ground.  But  they  were  still  so  tightly 
tucked  up  in  their  green  wraps  that 
one  could  hardly  see  them.  They 
80 


THE  ANEMONES 

looked  like  green  buds  which  might 
turn  into  anything. 

"It's  too  early,"  they  whispered. 
"It's  a  shame  for  the  starling  to  call 
us.  There's  no  one  in  the  world  left 
that  one  can  trust." 

Then  the  swallow  came: 

"Tsee!  Tsee!"  he  whistled  and  dart- 
ed through  the  air  on  his  long, 
pointed  wings.  "Out  with  you,  you 
silly  flowers!  Can't  you  see  that 
Dame  Spring  has  come?" 

But  the  anemones  had  become  care- 
ful. They  just  pushed  their  green 
wraps  a  little  to  one  side  and  peeped 
out: 

"One  swallow  does  not  make  a  sum- 
mer," they  said.  "Where  is  your 
wife?  You  have  only  come  to  see  if 
it's  possible  to  live  here  and  now 
you're  trying  to  take  us  in.  But  we 
81 


THE  ANEMONES 

are  not  so  stupid  as  all  that.  We 
know  that,  if  once  we  catch  cold, 
we're  done  for." 

"You're  a  pack  of  poltroons,"  said 
the  swallow  and  sat  down  on  the 
weathercock  on  the  ranger's  roof  and 
looked  out  over  the  landscape. 

But  the  anemones  stood  and  waited 
and  were  very  cold.  One  or  two  of 
them,  who  could  not  control  their  im- 
patience, cast  off  their  wraps  in  the 
sun.  The  cold  killed  them  at  night 
and  the  story  of  their  pitiful  death 
went  from  flower  to  flower  and 
aroused  great  consternation. 

2 

Then  Dame  Spring  came,  one  de- 
lightfully mild  and  still  night. 

No  one  knows  what  she  looks  like, 
for  no  one  has  ever  seen  her.  But  all 

82 


THE  ANEMONES 

long  for  her  and  thank  her  and  bless 
her.  She  goes  through  the  wood  and 
touches  the  flowers  and  the  trees  and 
they  bud  at  once.  She  goes  through 
the  stables  and  unfastens  the  animals 
and  lets  them  out  into  the  field.  She 
goes  straight  into  men's  hearts  and 
makes  them  glad.  She  makes  it  diffi- 
cult for  the  best-behaved  boy  to  sit 
still  on  his  bench  at  school  and  occa- 
sions a  terrible  lot  of  mistakes  in  the 
exercise-books. 

But  she  does  not  do  this  all  at  once. 
She  attends  to  her  business  night  af- 
ter night  and  comes  first  to  those  who 
long  for  her  most. 

So  it  happened  that,  on  the  very 
night  when  she  arrived,  she  went 
straight  off  to  the  anemones,  who 
stood  in  their  green  wraps  and  could 
no  longer  curb  their  impatience. 

83 


THE  ANEMONES 

And  one,  two,  three!  There  they 
stood  in  newly-ironed  white  frocks 
and  looked  so  fresh  and  pretty  that 
the  starlings  sang  their  finest  songs 
for  sheer  joy  at  the  sight  of  them. 

"Oh,  how  lovely  it  is  here!"  said  the 
anemones.  "How  warm  the  sun  is! 
And  how  the  birds  sing !  It  is  a  thou- 
sand times  better  than  last  year." 

But  they  say  this  every  year,  so  it 
doesn't  count. 

Now  there  were  many  others  who 
went  quite  off  their  heads  when  they 
saw  that  the  anemones  were  out. 
There  was  a  schoolboy  who  wanted 
to  have  his  summer  holidays  then  and 
there  and  then  there  was  the  beech, 
who  was  most  offended. 

"Aren't  you  coming  to  me  soon, 
Dame  Spring?"  he  said.  "I  am  a 
much  more  important  person  than 

84 


THE  ANEMONES 

those  silly  anemones  and  really  I  can 
no  longer  control  my  buds." 

"I'm  coming,  I'm  coming!"  re- 
plied Dame  Spring.  "But  you  must 
give  me  a  little  time." 

She  went  on  through  the  wood.  And, 
at  every  step,  more  anemones  ap- 
peared. They  stood  in  thick  bevies 
round  the  roots  of  the  beech  and 
bashfully  bowed  their  round  heads  to 
the  ground. 

"Look  up  freely,"  said  Dame 
Spring,  "and  rejoice  in  heaven's 
bright  sun.  Your  lives  are  but  short, 
so  you  must  enjoy  them  while  they 
last." 

The  anemones  did  as  she  told  them. 
They  stretched  themselves  and  spread 
their  white  petals  to  every  side  and 
drank  as  much  sunshine  as  they 
could.  They  knocked  their  heads 

85 


THE  ANEMONES 

against  one  another  and  wound  their 
stalks  together  and  laughed  and 
were  constantly  happy. 

"Now  I  can  wait  no  longer,"  said 
the  beech  and  came  into  leaf. 

Leaf  after  leaf  crept  out  of  its 
green  covering  and  spread  out  and 
fluttered  in  the  wind.  The  whole 
green  crown  arched  itself  like  a 
mighty  roof  above  the  ground. 

"Good  heavens,  is  it  evening  so 
soon?"  asked  the  anemones,  who 
thought  that  it  had  turned  quite 
dark. 

"No,  it  is  death"  said  Dame 
Spring.  "Now  you're  finished.  It's 
the  same  with  you  as  with  the  best  in 
this  world.  All  must  bud,  blossom 
and  die." 

"Die?"  cried  some  of  the  small 
anemones.  "Must  we  die  yet?" 

86 


THE  ANEMONES 

And  some  of  the  large  anemones 
turned  quite  red  in  the  face  with  an- 
ger and  pride: 

"We  know  all  about  it!"  they  said. 
"It's  the  beech  that's  killing  us.  He 
steals  the  sunshine  for  his  own  leaves 
and  grudges  us  a  single  ray.  He  is  a 
nasty,  wicked  thing." 

They  stood  and  scolded  and  wept 
for  some  days.  Then  Dame  Spring 
came  for  the  last  time  through  the 
wood.  She  had  still  the  oaks  and 
some  other  querulous  old  fellows  to 
visit : 

"Lie  down  nicely  to  sleep  now  in 
the  ground,"  she  said  to  the  anem- 
ones. "It  is  no  use  kicking  against 
the  pricks.  Next  year,  I  will  come 
again  and  wake  you  to  new  life." 

And  some  of  the  anemones  did  as 

she  told  them.  But  others  continued 

87 


THE  ANEMONES 

to  stick  their  heads  in  the  air  and 
grew  up  so  ugly  and  lanky  that  they 
were  horrid  to  look  at. 

"Fie,  for  shame!"  they  cried  to  the 
beech-leaves.  "It's  you  that  are  kill- 
ing us." 

But  the  beech  shook  his  long 
boughs,  so  that  the  brown  husks  fell 
to  the  ground. 

"Wait  till  the  autumn,  you  little 
blockheads,"  he  said  and  laughed. 
"Then  you'll  just  see." 

The  anemones  could  not  understand 
what  he  meant.  But,  when  they  had 
stretched  themselves  as  far  as  they 
could,  they  cracked  in  two  and  with- 
ered. 

3 

The  summer  was  past  and  the 
farmer  had  carted  his  corn  home 
from  the  field. 

88 


THE  ANEMONES 

The  wood  was  still  green,  but  dark- 
er; and,  in  many  places,  yellow  and 
red  leaves  appeared  among  the  green 
ones.  The  sun  was  tired  of  his  warm 
work  during  the  summer  and  went 
early  to  bed. 

At  night,  the  winter  stole  through 
the  trees  to  see  if  his  time  would 
soon  come.  When  he  found  a  flower, 
he  kissed  her  politely  and  said: 

"Well,  well,  are  you  there  still?  I 
am  glad  to  see  you.  Stay  where  you 
are.  I  am  a  harmless  old  man  and 
wouldn't  hurt  a  fly." 

But  the  flower  shuddered  with  his 
kiss  and  the  bright  dew-drops  that 
hung  from  her  petals  froze  to  ice  at 
the  same  moment. 

The  winter  went  of tener  and  oftener 
through  the  wood.  He  breathed  upon 
the  leaves,  so  that  they  turned  yel* 
89 


THE  ANEMONES 

low,  or  upon  the  ground,  so  that  it 
grew  hard. 

Even  the  anemones,  who  lay  down 
below  in  the  earth  and  waited  for 
Dame  Spring  to  come  again  as  she 
had  promised,  could  feel  his  breath 
and  shuddered  right  down  to  their 
roots. 

"Oh  dear,  how  cold  it  is!"  they  said 
to  one  another.  "How  ever  shall  we 
last  through  the  winter?  We  are  sure 
to  die  before  it  is  over." 

"Now  my  time  has  come,"  said  the 
winter.  "Now  I  need  no  longer  steal 
round  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  From 
to-morrow  I  shall  look  everybody 
straight  in  the  face  and  bite  his  nose 
and  make  his  eyes  run  with  tears." 

At  night  the  storm  broke  loose. 

"Let  me  see  you  make  a  clean  sweep 
of  things,"  said  the  winter. 

90 


THE  ANEMONES 

And  the  storm  obeyed  his  orders. 
He  tore  howling  through  the  wood 
and  shook  the  branches  so  that  they 
creaked  and  broke.  Any  that  were  at 
all  decayed  fell  down  andlthose  that 
held  on  had  to  twist  and  turn  to  every 
side. 

"Away  with  all  that  finery!" 
howled  the  storm  and  tore  off  the 
leaves.  "This  is  no  time  to  deck  one's 
self  out.  Soon  there  will  be  snow  on 
the  branches:  that's  another  story." 

All  the  leaves  fell  terrified  to  the 
ground,  but  the  storm  did  not  let 
them  be  in  peace.  He  took  them  by 
the  waist  and  waltzed  with  them  over 
the  field,  high  up  in  the  air  and 
into  the  wood  again,  swept  them  to- 
gether into  great  heaps  and  scattered 
them  once  more  to  every  side,  just  as 
the  fit  seized  him. 

91 


THE  ANEMONES 

Not  until  the  morning  did  the 
storm  grow  weary  and  go  down. 

"Now  you  can  have  peace  for  this 
time,"  he  said.  "I  am  going  down 
till  we  have  our  spring-cleaning. 
Then  we  can  have  another  dance,  if 
there  are  any  of  you  left  by  that 
time." 

And  then  the  leaves  went  to  rest  and 
lay  like  a  thick  carpet  over  the  whole 
earth. 

The  anemones  felt  that  it  had 
grown  delightfully  warm. 

"I  wonder  if  Dame  Spring  can  have 
come  yet?"  they  asked  one  another. 

"I  haven't  got  my  buds  ready!" 
cried  one  of  them. 

"No  more  have  1 1  No  more  have  1 1" 
exclaimed  the  others  in  chorus. 

But  one  of  them  took  courage  and 
Just  peeped  out  above  the  ground. 
92 


THE  ANEMONES 

"Good-morning!"  cried  the  with- 
ered beech-leaves.  "It's  rather  too 
early,  little  missie:  if  only  you  don't 
come  to  any  harm!" 

"Isn't  that  Dame  Spring?"  asked 
the  anemone. 

"Not  just  yet,"  replied  the  beech- 
leaves.  "It's  we,  the  green  leaves  you 
were  so  angry  with  in  the  summer. 
Now  we  have  lost  our  green  colour 
and  have  not  much  left  to  make  a 
show  of.  We  have  enjoyed  our  youth 
and  danced,  I  may  tell  you.  And 
now  we  are  lying  here  and  protect- 
ing all  the  little  flowers  in  the 
ground  against  the  winter." 

"And  meanwhile  I  am  standing 
and  freezing  with  my  bare  branches," 
said  the  beech,  crossly. 

The  anemones  talked  about  it  down 
in  the  earth  and  thought  it  very  nice. 

93 


THE  ANEMONES 

"Those  dear  beech-leaves!"  they 
said. 

"Mind  you  remember  it  next  sum- 
mer, when  I  come  into  leaf,"  said  the 
beech. 

"We  will,  we  will!"  whispered  the 
anemones. 

For  that  sort  of  thing  is  promised; 
but  the  promise  is  never  kept. 


94 


THE    QUEEN   BEE 


THE    QUEEN   BEE 


THE  farmer  opened  his  bee-hive. 

"Out  with  you!"  he  said.  "The  sun 
is  shining;  the  flowers  are  blossom- 
ing everywhere  and  are  a  sheer  joy 
to  behold.  Let  me  see  you  industri- 
ous now  and  gather  me  a  good  lot 
of  honey  which  I  can  sell  to  the  shop- 
keeper in  the  autumn.  Many  mickles 
make  a  muckle;  and  you  know  that 
things  are  looking  bad  with  agricul- 
ture." 

"What  is  agriculture  to  us?"  said 
the  bees. 

But  they  flew  out  nevertheless,  for 
they  had  been  in  the  hive  all  winter 

97 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

and  were  longing  for  a  breath  of 
fresh  air.  Buzzing  and  humming, 
they  stretched  their  legs  and  tried 
their  wings.  They  swarmed  forth 
everywhere,  crawled  up  and  down 
the  hive,  flew  off  to  the  flowers  and 
shrubs  and  walked  about  on  the 
ground. 

There  were  many  hundred  bees. 

The  queen  came  last.  She  was  big- 
ger than  the  others  and  it  was  she 
that  reigned  in  the  hive. 

"Stop  that  nonsense  now,  children," 
she  said,  "and  begin  to  do  something. 
A  decent  bee  does  not  idle,  but  turns 
to,  in  a  capable  way,  and  makes  good 
use  of  her  time." 

Then  she  divided  them  into  com- 
panies and  set  them  to  work. 

"You,  there,  fly  out  and  see  if  there 
is  any  honey  in  the  flowers.  The  sec- 
98 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

ond  company  can  gather  pollen ;  and, 
when  you  come  home,  deliver  it  all 
nicely  to  the  old  bees  indoors." 

They  flew  away.  But  all  the  young 
ones  were  still  left.  They  formed  the 
last  company,  for  they  had  never 
been  out  before. 

"What  are  we  to  do?"  they  asked. 

"You?  You've  got  to  sweatf"  said 
the  queen.  "One,  two,  three  and  to 
work!" 

And  they  sweated  as  best  they  knew 
how  and  the  loveliest  yellow  wax 
burst  out  of  their  bodies. 

"That's  right,"  said  the  queen. 
"Now  we  will  begin  to  build." 

The  old  bees  took  the  wax  and 
started  building  a  number  of  small 
hexagonal  cells,  all  alike  and  close 
together.  All  the  time  that  they  were 
building,  the  others  came  flying  up 

99 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

with  pollen  and  honey,  which  they 
laid  at  the  queen's  feet. 

"Now  we'll  knead  the  dough!"  said 
she.  "But  first  pour  a  little  honey  in; 
then  it  will  taste  better." 

They  kneaded  and  kneaded  and 
made  nice  little  loaves  of  bee-bread, 
which  they  carried  to  the  cells. 

"Now  we'll  go  on  building!"  com- 
manded the  queen-bee.  And  they 
sweated  wax  and  built  away  with  a 
vengeance. 

"I  may  as  well  begin  my  own 
work,"  said  the  queen  and  heaved  a 
deep  sigh,  for  this  was  the  hardest  of 
all. 

She  sat  down  in  the  middle  of  the 
hive  and  began  to  lay  eggs.  She  laid 
great  heaps  and  the  bees  ran  up, 
took  the  little  eggs  in  their  mouths 
and  carried  them  into  the  new  cells. 
100 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

Every  egg  got  its  own  little  room; 
and,  when  they  were  all  disposed  of, 
the  queen  ordered  the  bees  to  put 
doors  to  the  cells  and  to  shut  them 
tight. 

"Good!"  she  said,  when  they  had 
finished.  "Now  you  can  build  me  ten 
big,  handsome  rooms  at  the  outer 
edge  of  the  hive." 

The  bees  did  so  in  a  trice  and  then 
the  queen  laid  ten  beautiful  eggs, 
one  in  each  of  the  big  rooms,  and  put 
a  door  before  them. 

Every  day,  the  bees  flew  out  and  in 
and  gathered  great  heaps  of  honey 
and  pollen ;  but,  in  the  evening,  when 
their  work  was  done,  they  set  the 
doors  a  little  ajar  and  peeped  in  at 
the  eggs. 

"Take  care!"   said  the  queen,  one 
day.  "Now  they're  coming!" 
101 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

And  suddenly  all  the  eggs  burst 
and  in  each  cell  lay  a  nice  little  baby. 

"What  queer  creatures!"  said  the 
young  bees.  "Why,  they  have  no 
eyes;  and  where  are  their  legs  and 
wings?" 

"Those  are  grubs,"  said  the  queen, 
"and  that's  what  you  young  green- 
horns yourselves  once  looked  like. 
You  have  to  be  a  grub  before  you 
can  become  a  proper  bee.  Hurry 
now  and  give  them  something  to 
eat." 

The  bees  hastened  to  feed  the  little 
young  ones ;  but  they  did  not  all  fare 
equally  well.  The  ten  that  lay  in  the 
large  rooms  got  as  much  to  eat  as 
ever  they  wanted  and  a  big  helping 
of  honey  was  carried  in  to  them  every 
day. 

"Those  are  princesses,"  said  the 
102 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

queen.  "Therefore,  you  must  treat 
them  well.  The  others  you  can  stint 
in  their  food;  they  are  only  work- 
people and  must  accustom  themselves 
to  take  things  as  they  come." 

And  the  poor  little  creatures  got  a 
small  piece  of  bee-bread  every  morn- 
ing and  nothing  more ;  they  had  to  be 
content  with  that,  even  though  they 
were  ever  so  hungry. 

2 

In  one  of  the  small  hexagonal  cells 
close  to  the  princesses'  rooms  lay  a 
tiny  little  grub.  She  was  the  young- 
est of  them  all  and  had  but  quite 
lately  come  out  of  the  egg.  She 
could  not  see,  but  she  could  distinctly 
hear  the  grown-up  bees  talking  out- 
side ;  and  meanwhile  she  lay  quite  still 
and  just  thought  her  own  thoughts. 

103 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

"I  could  do  with  a  little  more  to 
eat,"  she  said  and  tapped  at  her 
door. 

"You've  got  enough  for  to-day," 
replied  the  old  bee  who  crawled  up 
and  down  outside  in  the  passage 
and  had  been  appointed  head-nurse 
to  the  baby  bees. 

"Ah,  but  I'm  hungry!"  cried  the  lit- 
tle grub.  "And  then  I  want  to  have 
a  princess's  room;  I  feel  so  cramped 
in  here." 

"Oh,  just  listen  to  her!"  said  the  old 
bee,  sarcastically.  "One  would  think 
she  was  a  dainty  little  princess  by  the 
pretensions  she  puts  forward!  You 
were  born  to  toil  and  drudge,  my 
little  friend.  A  common  working- 
bee,  that's  what  you  are;  and  you'll 
never  be  anything  else  in  all  your 
days." 

104 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

"Ah,  but  I  want  to  be  a  queen!" 
said  the  grub  and  thumped  on  the 
door. 

The  old  bee,  of  course,  made  no  re- 
ply to  such  silly  trash,  but  went  on  to 
the  others.  Everywhere  they  were 
crying  for  more  food;  and  the  little 
grub  could  hear  it  all. 

"It's  really  hard,"  she  thought, 
"that  we  should  be  so  hungry." 

And  then  she  tapped  on  the  wall 
and  called  to  the  princess  on  the  other 
side: 

"Give  me  a  little  of  your  honey! 
Let  me  come  in  to  you  in  your  room. 
I  am  lying  here  and  starving  and  I 
am  quite  as  good  as  you." 

"Ah,  you  just  wait  till  I'm  queen- 
regnant!"  said  the  princess.  "Be  sure 
I  shan't  forget  your  impudence." 

But  she  had  hardly  said  this  before 

105 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

the  other  princesses  began  to  bawl 
most  terribly: 

"You  shan't  be  queen!  I  will!  I 
will!"  they  all  yelled  together  and 
began  to  thump  on  the  walls  and 
make  a  frightful  din. 

The  head-nurse  came  running  up  at 
once  and  opened  the  doors : 

"What  are  your  Royal  Highnesses' 
commands?"  she  asked  and  curtseyed 
and  scraped  with  her  legs. 

"More  honey!"  they  all  cried  to- 
gether. "But  me  first,  me  first!  I'm 
going  to  be  queen!" 

"This  minute,  this  minute,  your 
Royal  Highnesses!"  she  replied  and 
ran  off  as  fast  as  her  six  old  legs 
could  carry  her. 

Soon  after,  she  came  back  with  sev- 
eral other  bees.  They  dragged  a 
quantity  of  honey  with  them,  which 

106 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

they  put  down  the  throats  of  the 
angry  little  princesses,  till  gradually 
they  grew  quiet  and  all  ten  of  them 
went  to  sleep. 

But  the  little  grub  lay  awake  and 
thought  over  what  had  happened. 
She  was  yearning  for  honey  and 
shook  the  door: 

"Give  me  some  honey!  I  can  stand 
this  no  longer;  I'm  quite  as  good  as 
the  others." 

The  old  bee  told  her  to  be  silent: 

"Keep  still,  you  little  squaller! 
Here  comes  the  queen." 

And  the  queen-bee  came  as  she 
spoke : 

"Go  away,"  she  said  to  the  bees.  "I 
wish  to  be  alone." 

She  stood  long,  silently,  outside  the 
princesses'  rooms. 

"You're  lying  in  there  now  and 
107 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

sleeping,"  she  said  at  last.  "Eat  and 
sleep,  that's  what  you  do,  from  morn 
till  night,  and,  every  day  that  passes, 
you  grow  stronger  and  fatter.  In 
a  few  days,  you  will  be  full-grown 
and  you  will  creep  out  of  the  cells. 
Then  my  time  is  over.  I  know  it  well ! 
I  have  heard  the  bees  saying  among 
themselves  that  they  want  a  younger 
and  prettier  queen ;  and  then  they  will 
drive  me  away  in  disgrace.  But  that 
I  will  not  submit  to.  To-morrow,  I 
shall  kill  them  all,  so  that  I  can  go  on 
reigning  till  I  die." 

Then  she  went  away,  but  the  little 
grub  had  heard  all  that  she  said. 

"Goodness  gracious!"  she  thought. 
"After  all,  it's  really  a  pity  for  the 
little  princesses.  They  certainly  give 
themselves  airs  and  they  have  been 
nasty  to  me;  but  it  would  be  sad,  for 

108 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

all  that,  if  the  wicked  queen  killed 
them.  I  think  I  shall  tell  the  old 
grumbler  in  the  passage." 

Then  she  began  to  tap  at  the  door 
again;  and  the  old  head-nurse  came 
running  up;  but  this  time  she  was 
really  angry: 

"Now,  you  had  better  mind  your- 
self, my  good  grub!"  she  said. 
"You're  the  youngest  of  them  all 
and  the  noisiest.  Next  time,  I'll  re- 
port you  to  the  queen." 

"Ah,  but  first  listen  to  me,"  said  the 
grub;  and  then  she  betrayed  the 
queen's  wicked  plan. 

"Heavens  above!  Is  that  true?" 
cried  the  old  bee  and  struck  her 
wings  together  with  horror. 

And,  without  listening  to  any  more, 
she  hurried  away  to  tell  the  other 
bees. 

109 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

"I  do  think  I  deserve  a  little  honey 
for  my  good-will,"  said  the  little 
grub.  "But  now  I  can  go  to  sleep 
with  an  easy  conscience." 

The  next  morning,  the  queen,  when 
she  thought  that  all  the  bees  were  in 
bed,  came  to  put  the  princesses  to 
death.  The  grub  could  hear  her  talk- 
ing aloud  to  herself;  but  was  very 
frightened  of  the  wicked  queen  and 
hardly  dared  move. 

"If  only  she  doesn't  kill  the  prin- 
cesses," she  thought  and  crept  closer 
to  the  door  to  hear  what  was  happen- 
ing. 

The  queen-bee  looked  "carefully 
round  in  every  direction  and  opened 
the  first  of  the  doors.  But,  as  she  did 
so,  the  bees  swarmed  up  from  every 
side,  seized  her  by  the  legs  and  wings 
and  dragged  her  away, 
no 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

"What  does  this  mean?"  she 
screamed.  "Are  you  rising  in  rebel- 
lion?" 

"No,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the 
bees,  respectfully,  "but  we  know  that 
you  are  thinking  of  killing  the  prin- 
cesses; and  that  you  cannot  possibly 
be  permitted  to  do.  How  should  we 
manage  in  that  case  in  the  autumn, 
when  your  Majesty  dies?" 

"Unhand  me!"  screamed  the  queen 
and  tried  to  tear  herself  free.  "I  am 
still  queen  and  have  the  right  to  do 
what  I  please.  How  do  you  know  that 
I  shall  die  in  the  autumn?" 

But  the  bees  held  fast  and  dragged 
her  out  of  the  hive.  There  they  let 
her  go ;  but  she  shook  her  wings  with 
rage  and  said: 

"You  are  disloyal  subjects,  who  are 

not  worth  reigning  over.  I  will  not 

in 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

stay  here  another  hour,  but  will  go 
away  and  build  a  new  hive.  Are  there 
any  of  you  that  will  follow  me?" 

Some  of  the  old  bees  who  had  been 
grubs  with  the  queen  declared  that 
they  would  go  with  her,  and  soon 
after  they  flew  away. 

"Now  we  have  no  queen,"  said  the 
others.  "We  shall  have  to  take  good 
care  of  the  princesses." 

And  so  they  stuffed  them  with  hon- 
ey from  morning  till  night  and  the 
princesses  grew  and  thrived  and 
squabbled  and  made  more  and  more 
noise  day  after  day. 

And  no  one  gave  a  thought  to  the 
little  grub. 

3 

One  morning,  the  doors  of  the  prin- 
cesses' rooms  flew  open  and  they  all 

112 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

ten  came  out  as  beautiful  full-grown 
queen-bees;  the  other  bees  came  run- 
ning up  and  looked  at  them  with  ad- 
miration. 

"Oh,   how   lovely  they   are!"   they 
said.  "It  is  not  easy  to  say  which  of 
them  is  the  prettiest.'* 
"I  am!"  cried  one. 
"You  make  a  great  mistake!"  said 
the  second  and  thrust  at  her  with  her 
sting. 

"You  flatter  yourselves!"  cried  the 
third.  "I  should  think  I  am  no  less 
beautiful  than  you." 

Soon  they  were  all  screaming  to- 
gether; and,  a  little  later,  they  all  be- 
gan to  fight.  The  bees  wanted  to 
part  them,  but  the  old  head-nurse 
said: 

"Just  let  them  fight,  then  we  shall 
see  which  is  the  strongest  and  we 

113 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

will  elect  her  to  be  our  queen. 
After  all,  we  can't  have  more  than 
one." 

The  bees  then  formed  a  ring  and 
watched  the  combat.  It  was  long  and 
hard-fought.  Wings  and  legs  were 
bitten  off  and  flew  around  in  the  air; 
and,  after  some  time,  eight  of  the 
princesses  lay  dead  on  the  ground. 
The  last  two  went  on  fighting  for  a 
long  while.  One  had  lost  all  her 
wings  and  the  other  had  only  four 
legs  left. 

"It  will  be  a  pitiful  queen,  which- 
ever of  them  we  get,"  said  one  of  the 
bees.  "We  had  better  have  kept  the 
old  one." 

But  she  might  as  well  have  saved 
herself  the  observation,  for  at  that 
very  moment  the  princesses  suddenly 
gave  each  other  so  violent  a  thrust 

114 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

with  their  stings  that  both  of  them 
fell  stone-dead. 

"Here's  a  nice  thing!"  cried  the 
bees  and  they  all  ran  about  in  con- 
sternation. "Now  we  have  no  queen! 
What  shall  we  do?  What  shall  we 
do?" 

They  crept  round  the  hive  in  utter 
bewilderment  and  despair.  But  the 
oldest  and  wisest  of  them  sat  in  a 
corner  and  held  counsel.  They  dis- 
cussed at  length  what  expedient  they 
should  resort  to  in  this  unfortunate 
case ;  but  at  last  the  head-nurse  spoke 
and  said: 

"Now  I  will  tell  you  how  you  can 
get  out  of  the  dilemma,  if  you  will 
follow  my  advice.  I  remember  that 
the  same  misfortune  once  happened 
long  ago  in  this  hive.  I  was  a  grub  at 
the  time  and  I  lay  in  my  cell  and 

115 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

distinctly  heard  what  was  going  on. 
All  the  princesses  had  killed  one  an- 
other and  the  old  queen  had  gone 
away,  just  as  now.  But  then  the  bees 
took  one  of  us  grubs  and  put  her  in 
one  of  the  princesses'  cells.  They  fed 
her  every  day  on  the  best  and  finest 
honey  that  the  hive  contained;  and, 
when  she  was  full-grown,  she  was  a 
really  good  and  beautiful  queen.  I 
remember  the  whole  story  clearly, 
for  I  thought  at  the  time  that  they 
might  just  as  well  have  taken  me. 
But  never  mind  that  at  present.  I 
propose  that  we  should  behave  in 
just  the  same  way." 

The  bees  gladly  cried  that  they 
agreed,  and  they  ran  straight  off  to 
fetch  a  grub. 

"Stop  a  bit,"  cried  the  head-nurse, 
"and  take  me  with  you.  After  all,  I 

116 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

have  managed  to  help  you.  Now,  look 
here:  it  must  be  one  of  the  youngest 
grubs,  for  she  must  have  time  to 
think  of  her  new  position.  When 
you've  been  brought  up  to  be  a  com- 
mon worker,  it's  not  so  easy  to  ac- 
custom yourself  to  wear  a  crown." 

The  bees  thought  this  sensible  too, 
and  the  old  bee  continued: 

"Just  beside  the  princesses'  rooms 
lies  a  little  grub.  She  is  the  youngest 
of  them  all.  She  must  have  learned  a 
deal  from  hearing  the  princesses'  cul- 
tured conversation;  and  I  have  no- 
ticed that  she  is  not  without  charac- 
ter. Moreover,  it  was  she  who  had  the 
honesty  to  tell  me  of  the  old  queen's 
wicked  thoughts.  Let  us  take  her." 

They  all  went  forthwith,  in  a  sol- 
emn procession,  to  the  narrow,  hex- 
agonal cell  in  which  the  little  grub 

117 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

lay.  The  head-nurse  knocked  politely 
at  the  door,  opened  it  carefully  and 
told  the  grub  what  the  bees  had  de- 
cided upon.  At  first  she  almost  re- 
fused to  believe  her  own  ears;  but, 
when  they  carried  her  carefully  into 
one  of  the  beautiful  large  rooms  and 
brought  her  as  much  honey  as  she 
could  eat,  she  saw  that  it  was  serious. 

"So  I  am  to  be  queen  after  all!"  she 
said  to  the  head-nurse.  "You  never 
thought  that,  you  old  grumbler!" 

"I  hope  your  Majesty  will  forget 
my  rude  remarks  at  the  time  when 
you  lay  in  the  hexagonal  cell,"  said 
the  old  bee  and  dropped  a  respectful 
curtsey. 

"I  forgive  you!"  replied  the  new- 
fledged  princess.  "Get  me  some  more 
honey!" 

Soon    after,    the    grub    was    full- 

118 


THE  QUEEN  BEE 

grown  and  stepped  out  of  her  room, 
looking  as  large  and  beautiful  as  the 
bees  could  possibly  wish.  And  she  did 
know  how  to  command  and  no  mis- 
take! 

"Away  with  you!"  she  said.  "We 
want  more  honey  for  winter  use  and 
you  others  must  sweat  more  wax.  I 
mean  to  build  a  wing  to  the  hive.  The 
new  princesses  will  live  in  it  next 
year;  it  is  much  too  unpleasant  for 
them  to  be  so  near  the  common 
grubs." 

"What  next!"  cried  the  bees  to  one 
another.  "One  would  really  think  that 
she  had  been  queen  from  the  time 
when  she  lay  in  the  egg!" 

"No,"  said  the  head-nurse,  "that  she 
was  not.  But  she  has  had  queenly 
thoughts;  and  that  is  the  great 
thing." 

119 


THE    CATERPILLAR 


THE    CATERPILLAR 


THE  whole  kitchen-garden  was  full 
of  caterpillars  and  one  of  them  was 
bigger  than  the  others.  Day  after 
day,  he  crawled  about  on  a  head  of 
cabbage  just  at  the  edge  of  the  walk. 
He  was  stout  and  fat  and  so  green 
that  it  hurt  one's  eyes  to  look  at  him. 
He  ate  and  ate,  positively  did  no- 
thing else  but  eat. 

"You  stupid  beast!"  said  the  gar- 
dener. "You  and  your  brothers  and 
sisters  eat  up  half  my  cabbage.  If 
there  were  not  so  many  of  you,  I 
would  kill  you." 

"The  stupid  beast!"  sang  the  night- 

123 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

ingale  who  sat  in  the  syringa-bush. 
"He  does  not  care  about  flowers  or 
music  and  singing.  Nothing  but  eat, 
eat,  eat!" 

"The  stupid  beast!"  piped  the  swal- 
low who  swept  over  the  kitchen-gar- 
den on  his  long,  pointed  wings.  "He 
has  not  the  smallest  taste  for  poetry: 
never  thinks  of  sunshine  and  summer 
air.  There  is  not  the  least  go  in  him. 
Nothing  but  eat,  eat,  eat!  And  then, 
into  the  bargain,  he  is  so  full  of 
loathsome  poisonous  hairs  that  one 
can't  eat  him  one's  self." 

"The  stupid  beast!"  snapped  the 
ant,  who  ran  past  with  a  grain  of 
corn  in  her  mouth.  "Does  he  ever 
think  of  house  and  home?  Of  his 
children?  Of  food  for  the  winter? 
Nothing  but  eat,  eat,  eat!" 

"Goodness  me!"  said  the  caterpillar. 

124 


THE   CATERPILLAR 

And  he  said  no  more  for  the  time 
being,  so  overpowered  was  he  with 
all  this  scolding.  But,  all  the  while 
that  he  was  eating  the  green,  juicy 
cabbage,  he  pondered  on  what  he 
had  heard  and  most  on  what  the  ant 
had  said.  And,  when  the  ant  next 
came  by,  the  caterpillar  had  made 
it  out: 

"Hi,  you  ant!"  he  cried.  "Stop  a  bit 
and  explain  to  me  what  you  said 
about  the  children.  Don't  you  know 
that  I  am  a  child  myself?  I  only 
want  time  in  order  to  grow  big  and 
pretty." 

The  ant  stood  still  and  dropped  the 
grain  of  corn  she  had  in  her  mouth, 
so  great  was  her  amazement: 

"Are  you  a  child?"  she  asked.  "A 
nice  child  you  are!  Why,  you're  a 
perfect  elephant,  fifty  times  as  big 

125 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

as  myself.  And  so  you're  a  child,  are 
you?  Lord  knows  what  you'll  look 
like  when  you're  grown  up!" 

"I  don't  know  for  certain,"  said  the 
caterpillar,  with  an  air  of  mystery. 
"But  I  have  a  suspicion.  If  I  could 
only  tell  you  what  I  sometimes  notice 
inside  myself!  I  am  quite  certain  that 
I  shall  be  something  great  one  day 
—if  only  you  give  me  time  to  grow. 
I  shall  fly  away  over  the  garden  on 
beautiful  wings;  I  shall  be  a  butter- 
fly: just  you  wait  and  see!  I  know  by 
my  dreams  that  I  am  related  to  you 
others  and  that  I  am  quite  as  good  as 

you." 

"Bah!"  said  the  ant  and  spat  on  the 
ground.  "It  is  simply  disgusting  to 
listen  to  such  balderdash.  Dreams? 
Suspicions?  No,  there's  a  thing  that's 
called  the  family  and  the  ant-hill: 

126 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

that's  what  I  stick  to.  Good-bye,  you 
stupid  caterpillar." 

Then  she  ran  off,  but  stopped  a  lit- 
tle farther  away  and  once  more  said: 

"Bahl" 

And  the  sun  blazed  and  the  cater- 
pillar basked  in  its  rays  while  he  ate 
the  green  cabbage. 


It  was  now  past  mid-day  and  the 
nightingale  in  the  syringa-bush  could 
not  bear  to  sing  in  so  great  a  heat. 
So  he  stopped  and  took  an  afternoon 
nap.  The  swallow  flew  up  aloft  to 
get  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  the  ant  car- 
ried her  little  white  eggs  up  into  the 
sun  and  the  gardener  sat  under  the 
big  walnut-tree  and  had  his  dinner 
with  his  wife  and  children. 

127 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

But  the  caterpillar  went  on  eating 
indefatigably. 

Suddenly  a  multitude  of  small 
black  dots  appeared  in  the  air  over 
the  kitchen-garden.  They  danced  up 
and  down  and  up  and  down.  At  last, 
they  hung  low  down,  just  above  the 
caterpillar,  and  he  could  see  that  they 
were  nice  little  animals,  with  fine, 
bright  wings. 

"Who  are  you?  What  do  you  want?" 
asked  the  caterpillar. 

"We  are  mothers,"  replied  the  little 
animals,  "and  we  have  come  out  to 
look  for  a  place  for  our  children." 

"Well,  that's  right  and  proper 
enough,"  said  the  caterpillar,  who 
was  thinking  of  what  the  ant  had 
said.  "But  I  don't  like  you,  for  all 
that." 

"That's  very  sad,"  said  the  animal- 

128 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

cules,  "for  we  just  happen  to  be  so 
awfully  fond  of  you." 

And,  at  that  moment,  a  number 
of  them  settled  on  the  caterpillar's 
back. 

"Oh!  Oh!"  he  screamed.  "Murder! 
Help!  Police!" 

The  little  animals  flew  up  again,  but 
remained  hovering  in  the  air  above 
the  caterpillar. 

"But  who  are  you?"  he  asked  and 
writhed  with  pain.  "What  have  I 
done  to  you  that  you  should  ill-treat 
me  so?" 

"Every  one  provides  for  himself 
and  his,"  replied  the  animalcules, 
"and  we  have  now  provided  for  our 
children.  We  are  parasitic  flies  and 
our  name  is  Ichneumon:  it  is  not  a 
pretty  one,  but  it  happens  to  be  the 
best  we  have.  For  the  rest,  we  are  re- 

129 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

lations  of  the  ants,  if  you  happen  to 
know  them." 

"It's  a  good  enough  family,"  said 
the  caterpillar  and  sighed.  "But  I 
don't  know  why  everybody  should 
scold  at  me  and  sting  me  and  scoff 
at  me.  What  is  this  that  you  have 
done  to  me  now?" 

"You'll  know  soon  enough,"  said 
the  ichneumons.  "Good-bye  for  the 
present  and  thank  you." 

Then  they  soared  up  aloft  and  be- 
came little  black  dots  again  and,  at 
last,  disappeared  altogether. 

But  the  caterpillar  heaved  long  and 
deep  sighs  and  ate  twice  as  much  cab- 
bage to  console  himself.  Neverthe- 
less, he  could  not  keep  from  think- 
ing of  the  uncomfortable  visit  he  had 
had: 

"I  have  a  suspicion,"  he  said  to  him- 

130 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

self.  "An  awkward  suspicion.  If  only 
I  could  make  something  of  itl" 


3 

But,  when  some  time  had  passed,  he 
began  to  make  something  of  it. 

He  simply  could  not  satisfy  his  ap- 
petite any  longer.  The  more  he  ate, 
the  hungrier  he  became.  He  munched 
one  piece  of  cabbage-leaf  after  an- 
other and,  nevertheless,  he  felt  quite 
faint  with  hunger. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  now?" 
he  said,  despondently. 

"It's  wel"  answered  something  in- 
side him. 

"Eh?  What?"  said  the  caterpillar 
and  rolled  round  with  terror.  "Am 
I  haunted  inside,  or  have  I  gone 
mad?" 

131 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

"It's  we,  it's  the  ichneumon-flies' 
young,"  came  the  sound  again  from 
deep  down  in  his  stomach. 

The  caterpillar's  head  was  in  a 
whirl.  But,  when  he  had  collected 
himself  a  little,  he  began  to  under- 
stand : 

"So  the  ichneumons  laid  their  eggs 
in  my  body!"  he  cried,  in  despair. 
"And  have  I  now  to  feed  all  their 
voracious  young?" 

"That's  it!"  said  the  young  ones. 
"You've  hit  it  to  a  T.  Bestir  your- 
self now,  you  stupid,  lazy  caterpillar, 
and  eat  till  you  burst,  or  we'll  eat 
you!" 

So  saying,  they  took  a  good  nip  at 
his  flesh. 

"Oh,  oh!"  yelled  the  caterpillar.  "I 
will,  I  will,  indeed  I  will." 

"Yes,    but    hurry    up!"    said    the 

132 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

young  ones.  "We  are  so  hungry,  so 
hungry !" 

And  the  caterpillar  ate  ever  so  much 
more  than  before,  but  it  was  not 
the  slightest  use.  He  could  never 
eat  enough  and  the  ichneumon-flies' 
young  kept  on  crying  for  more.  The 
ant  and  the  swallow  and  the  night- 
ingale mocked  at  him  every  day  and 
the  gardener  beat  the  cabbage  with 
his  rake,  so  angry  was  he  at  all  this 
consumption. 

But  the  caterpillar  swallowed  it  all 
and  reflected  that  there  was  not  on 
earth  a  lot  so  distressing  as  his. 

"Jeer  away!"  he  thought.  "You're 
quick  at  that.  If  only  you  knew  that 
I  don't  get  the  food  myself  which  I 
procure:  the  benefit  of  it  all  goes  to 
the  ichneumon-flies'  young." 

He  ate  and  ate  desperately.  At  last, 

133 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

he  could  bear  it  no  longer.  All  day 
long,  he  noticed  how  the  ichneumons 
were  rummaging  about  inside  him. 
He  rolled  round  on  the  cabbage-leaf 
in  despair  and  turned  and  twisted 
and  screamed  for  help. 

"Rather  eat  me  up  altogether  while 
you're  about  it!"  he  cried.  "Rather 
let  me  die  at  once :  I  can't  endure  this 
life!" 

"Tut,  tut!"  said  the  young  ones  in- 
side him  and  cackled  with  laughter. 
"It's  not  so  easy  as  that.  You'll  be 
eaten  right  enough,  when  the  time 
comes,  never  fear!  But,  for  the  pres- 
ent, all  you  have  to  do  is  to  hold  your 
tongue  and  eat." 

4 

Every  day,  the  young  ones  grew 
bigger  and  wanted  more  food.  When 

134 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

they  could  no  longer  satisfy  them- 
selves with  what  the  caterpillar  ate, 
they  began  to  devour  two  large 
lumps  of  fat  which  he  had  saved  up 
in  the  happy  days  before  the  ichneu- 
mons came.  They  were  meant  to  be 
used  for  wings  and  legs,  once  he  had 
become  a  butterfly.  And,  when  he  no- 
ticed that  they  were  gone,  he  shed 
bitter  tears: 

"Alas  for  my  beautiful  dreams!"  he 
said.  "Now  I  shall  never  be  a  butter- 
fly, never  flit  in  the  sun  all  over  the 
garden." 

"I  told  you  all  the  time  that  that 
was  nonsense  about  the  butterfly," 
said  the  ant,  who  passed  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

"Listen,"  said  the  caterpillar.  "If 
you  have  a  heart  beating  in  your 
body,  then  help  me,  Ant." 

135 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

Then  he  told  her  of  his  misfortune. 
The  swallow  and  the  nightingale 
came  and  listened  and  the  caterpillar 
implored  them  for  advice  and  assist- 
ance. 

"After  all,  I'm  of  your  race,"  he 
ended  by  saying.  "Believe  me,  I  feel 
it.  If  I  get  time  and  leisure,  I  shall 
turn  into  something  pretty,  a  butter- 
fly. I  have  felt  that  inside  myself 
since  the  time  when  I  was  quite 
little." 

The  swallow  and  the  nightingale 
looked  at  each  other  and  shook  their 
heads.  But  the  ant,  who  was  the  clev- 
erest of  the  three,  nodded  thought- 
fully and  then  said: 

"What  you  say  about  the  relation- 
ship may  have  something  in  it.  To  a 
certain  extent.  For  we  are  all  poor 
mortals,  as  the  gardener  says.  But 

136 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

that  bit  about  the  butterfly  is  pos- 
itively nothing  but  imagination.  I  am 
sorry  for  you,  goodness  knows  I 
am,  but  I  can't  help  you.  You  must 
bear  your  lot  with  patience." 

"I  cant  bear  it!"  cried  the  caterpil- 
lar. "It  is  killing  me.  Think  of  the 
butterflies:  are  they  not  beautiful? 
Don't  you  like  looking  at  them? 
Help  me,  do  you  hear!  If  I  die,  a 
butterfly  dies.  Only  think,  if  one  day 
there  were  no  butterflies!" 

"Well,"  said  the  ant,  "as  for  that, 
the  world  would  go  on,  even  if 
you  are  right.  There  are  caterpillars 
enough  in  the  garden  and,  if  you 
really  are  butterflies'  children,  there 
would  be  plenty  left,  even  though  a 
few  did  get  lost.  However,  I  have  no 
time  to  speculate  on  this  folly.  If  you 
wish  to  have  my  opinion  in  a  nut- 

137 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

shell,  here  it  is,  that  your  mother 
must  have  looked  after  you  foolish- 
ly, for  you  to  fall  into  the  ichneu- 
mons' power  like  this.  And  now  I 
must  go  home  and  look  after  my  chil- 
dren. Good-bye  and  bless  you!" 

Then  the  ant  went  away.  The  night- 
ingale flew  up  into  the  bush  and  sang 
in  the  warm  evening  so  that  all  had 
to  listen  and  admire  him  and  the 
swallow  soared  high  into  the  air  and 
prophesied  fine  weather  for  the  mor- 
row. 

But  the  caterpillar  crouched  hum- 
bly over  his  cabbage-leaf  and  ate. 


"I  think  there  are  too  many  of  us 
in  here,"  said  one  of  the  ichneumon- 
grubs  the  next  morning.  "I  can't 
breathe." 

138 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

"There's  a  way  out  of  that,"  said 
one  of  the  others.  "Let's  bite  a  hole 
in  the  creature's  air-ducts;  then  we'll 
get  air  enough.  But  see  that  he  has 
one  or  two  left,  or  we  shall  risk  his 
going  and  suffocating  before  his 
time." 

It  was  no  sooner  said  than  done.  But 
the  caterpillar  screamed  louder  than 
ever. 

"Air!  Air!  I  shall  die  of  suffoca- 
tion!" 

"No,  you  won't,"  replied  the  young 
ones.  "But  you  had  better  accustom 
yourself  to  be  content  with  little. 
Hurry  back  to  the  cabbage." 

"Now  it's  all  up  with  me,"  said  the 
caterpillar,  one  morning. 

"You  may  be  right,  this  time,"  re- 
plied the  ichneumon-grubs. 

That  evening,  they  ate  the  last  rem- 

139 


THE  CATERPILLAR 

nant  of  their  host.  Only  the  skin  was 
left  of  the  dead  caterpillar.  It  lay 
dry  and  shrivelled  up  outside  the 
grubs,  who  nestled  in  it  as  in  a  warm 
fur. 

One  fine  day,  they  flew  out.  Pretty 
little  animals  they  were,  with  light, 
bright  wings,  like  their  parents. 

"Hurrah!"  they  cried.  "Now  it's 
only  a  question  of  finding  a  caterpil- 
lar for  our  young.  Each  for  himself 
and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost :  such 
is  nature's  law.  We  are  nature's  po- 
lice: we  see  to  it  that  things  keep 
their  balance.  It  would  be  a  hideous 
world  indeed,  if  it  were  full  of  cat- 
erpillars!" 

"Or  of  ichneumon-flies!"  piped  the 
swallow  and  gulped  down  a  mouth- 
ful of  them  as  he  spoke. 


140 


THE    BEECH    AND    THE 
OAK 


THE    BEECH    AND    THE 
OAK 


IT  was  in  the  old  days. 

There  were  no  towns  with  houses 
and  streets  and  towering  church- 
steeples.  There  were  no  schools.  For 
there  were  not  many  boys  and  those 
there  were  learnt  from  their  fathers 
to  shoot  with  a  bow  and  arrow,  to 
hunt  the  deer  in  his  hiding-place,  to 
kill  bears  in  order  to  make  clothes  of 
their  hides  and  to  get  fire  by  rubbing 
two  pieces  of  wood  together.  When 
they  knew  all  this  thoroughly,  their 
education  was  completed. 

Nor   were  there   any   railways,   or 

143 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

tilled  fields,  or  ships  on  the  sea,  or 
books,  for  there  was  nobody  who 
would  read  them. 

There  was  hardly  anything  but 
trees. 

But  then  of  trees  there  were  plenty. 
They  stood  everywhere,  from  coast 
to  coast,  mirrored  themselves  in  ev- 
ery river  and  sea  and  stretched  their 
mighty  branches  up  into  the  sky. 
They  stooped  out  over  the  sea-shore, 
dipped  their  branches  in  the  black 
water  of  the  marshes  and  looked  out 
haughtily  over  the  land  from  the  tall 
hills. 

They  all  knew  one  another,  for  they 
belonged  to  one  big  family  and  they 
were  proud  of  it. 

"We  are  all  oak-trees,"  they  said 
and  drew  themselves  up.  "We  own 
the  land  and  we  govern  it." 

144 


THE   BEECH  AND  THE   OAK 

And  they  were  quite  right,  for  there 
were  only  very  few  people  at  that 
time.  Otherwise  there  was  nothing 
but  wild  animals.  Bears,  wolves  and 
foxes  went  hunting,  while  the  deer 
grazed  by  the  edge  of  the  marsh. 
The  wood-mouse  sat  outside  her  hole 
eating  acorns  and  the  beaver  built 
his  ingenious  house  on  the  river-bank. 


Then,  one  day,  the  bear  came  trudg- 
ing along  and  lay  down  at  full 
length  under  a  great  oak-tree. 

"Are  you  there  again,  you  robber?" 
said  the  oak  and  shook  a  heap  of 
withered  leaves  over  him. 

"You  really  ought  not  to  be  so 
wasteful  with  your  leaves,  old 
friend,"  said  the  bear,  licking  his 

145 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

paws.  "They  are  the  only  thing  you 
have  to  keep  off  the  sun  with." 

"If  you  don't  like  me,  you  can  go 
away,"  replied  the  oak,  proudly.  "I 
am  lord  of  the  land  and,  look  where 
you  may,  you  will  find  none  but  my 
brothers." 

"True  enough,"  growled  the  bear. 
"That's  just  the  tiresome  part  of  it. 
I've  been  for  a  little  trip  abroad,  you 
see,  and  have  been  a  bit  spoilt.  That 
was  in  a  country  down  south.  I  there 
took  a  nap  under  the  beech-trees. 
Those  are  tall,  slender  trees,  not 
crooked  old  fellows  like  you.  And 
their  tops  are  so  close  that  the  sun- 
beams can't  pierce  through  them  at 
all.  It  was  a  real  delight  to  sleep 
there  of  an  afternoon,  believe  me." 

"Beech-trees?"  asked  the  oak,  curi- 
ously. "What  are  they?" 

146 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

"You  might  wish  that  you  were  half 
as  handsome  as  a  beech-tree,"  said 
the  bear.  "But  now  I'm  not  going  to 
gossip  with  you  any  more.  I've  had 
to  trot  over  a  mile  in  front  of  a  con- 
founded hunter,  who  caught  me  on 
one  of  my  hind-legs  with  an  arrow. 
Now  I  want  to  sleep;  and  perhaps 
you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  provide  me 
with  rest,  since  you  can't  provide  me 
with  shade." 

The  bear  lay  down  and  closed  his 
eyes,  but  there  was  no  sleep  for  him 
this  time.  For  the  other  trees  had 
heard  what  he  had  said  and  there 
came  such  a  chattering  and  a  jab- 
bering and  a  rustling  of  leaves 
as  had  never  been  known  in  the 
forest. 

"Heaven  knows  what  sort  of  trees 
those  are!"  said  the  one.  "Of  course, 

147 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

it's  a  story  which  the  bear  wants  us 
to  swallow,"  said  another. 

"What  can  trees  be  like  whose 
leaves  are  so  close  together  that 
the  sunbeams  can't  pierce  through 
them?"  asked  a  little  oak  who  had 
been  listening  to  what  the  big  ones 
were  saying. 

But  next  to  him  stood  an  old, 
gnarled  tree,  who  slapped  the  little 
oak  on  the  head  with  one  of  his  low- 
er branches. 

"Hold  your  tongue,"  he  said,  "and 
don't  talk  till  you've  got  something 
to  say.  And  you  others  need  not  be- 
lieve a  word  of  the  bear's  nonsense. 
I  am  much  taller  than  you  and  I  can 
see  a  long  way  over  the  forest.  But 
as  far  away  as  I  can  see  there  is  no- 
thing but  oak-trees." 

The    little    oak    remained    sheepish 

148 


THE   BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

and  silent  and  the  other  big  trees 
whispered  softly  to  one  another,  for 
they  had  a  great  respect  for  the  old 
one. 

But  the  bear  got  up  and  rubbed  his 
eyes. 

"Now  you  have  disturbed  my  after- 
noon nap,"  he  growled,  angrily, 
"and  I  shall  have  my  revenge  on  you, 
never  fear.  When  I  come  back,  I 
shall  bring  some  beech-seed  with  me 
and  I'll  answer  for  it  that  you  will 
all  turn  yellow  with  envy  when  you 
see  how  handsome  the  new  trees 
are." 

Then  he  trotted  away.  But  the  oaks 
talked  to  one  another  for  days  at  a 
time  of  the  queer  trees  which  he  had 
told  them  of. 

"If  they  come,  we'll  do  for  them!" 
said  the  little  oak-tree. 

149 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

But  the  old  oak  gave  him  one  on  the 
head: 

"If  they  come,  you  shall  be  civil  to 
them,  you  puppy,"  he  said.  "But 
they  won't  come." 

3 

Now  this  was  where  the  old  oak  was 
wrong,  for  they  did  come. 

In  the  autumn,  the  bear  returned 
and  lay  down  under  the  old  oak. 

"I  am  to  give  you  the  kind  regards 
of  the  people  down  below  there,"  he 
said  and  picked  some  funny  little 
things  off  his  shaggy  hide.  "Just 
look  what  I've  got  for  you." 

"What's  that?"  asked  the  oak. 

"That's  beech,"  replied  the  bear. 
"Beech-seed,  as  I  promised  you." 

Then  he  trampled  them  into  the 
earth  and  prepared  to  leave  again: 

150 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

"It's  a  pity  that  I  can't  stay  to  see 
how  annoyed  you  will  be,"  he  said, 
"but  those  confounded  human  beings 
have  become  so  offensive.  They  killed 
my  wife  and  one  of  my  brothers  the 
other  day  and  I  must  look  out  for  a 
place  where  I  can  dwell  in  peace. 
There  is  hardly  a  spot  left  for  an 
honest  bear  to  live  in.  Good-bye,  you 
gnarled  old  oak-trees." 

When  the  bear  had  jogged  off,  the 
trees  looked  at  one  another  seriously. 

"Let  us  now  see  what  happens," 
said  the  old  oak. 

And  thereupon  they  betook  them- 
selves to  rest.  The  winter  came  and 
tore  all  their  leaves  from  them.  The 
snow  lay  high  over  all  the  land  and 
every  tree  stood  plunged  in  his  own 
thoughts  and  dreamt  of  spring. 

And,   when   the    spring   came,   the 

151 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

grass  was  green  and  the  birds  began 
to  sing  where  they  last  left  off.  The 
flowers  swarmed  up  out  of  the 
ground  and  everything  looked  fresh 
and  vigorous. 

The  oaks  alone  still  stood  with  leaf- 
less branches: 

"It  is  very  distinguished  to  come 
last,"  they  said  to  one  another.  "The 
king  of  the  forest  does  not  arrive 
before  the  whole  company  is  assem- 
bled." 

But  at  last  they  did  arrive.  All  the 
leaves  burst  forth  from  the  fat  buds 
and  the  trees  looked  at  one  another 
and  complimented  one  another  on 
their  good  appearance.  The  little  oak 
had  grown  a  decent  bit.  This  made 
him  feel  important  and  think  that  he 
now  had  the  right  to  join  in  the  con- 
versation : 

152 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

"There's  not  much  coming  of  the 
bear's  beech-trees,"  he  said,  mock- 
ingly, but  at  the  same  time  glanced 
up  anxiously  at  the  old  oak  who  used 
to  slap  his  head. 

The  old  oak  heard  what  he  said  and 
so  did  the  others.  But  they  said  no- 
thing. None  of  them  had  forgotten 
what  the  bear  had  said  and  every 
morning,  when  the  sun  shone,  they 
peeped  down  secretly  to  see  if  the 
beeches  had  come.  At  bottom  they 
were  a  little  anxious,  but  they  were 
too  proud  to  talk  about  it. 

And,  one  day,  at  last,  the  little 
sprouts  shot  up  from  the  ground. 
The  sun  shone  upon  them  and  the 
rain  fell  over  them,  so  that  it  was  not 
long  before  they  grew  to  a  good 
height. 

"I  say,  how  pretty  they  are!"  said 

153 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

the  great  oaks  and  twisted  their 
crooked  branches  still  more,  so  as  to 
see  them  better. 

"You  are  welcome  among  us,"  said 
the  old  oak  and  gave  them  a  gracious 
nod.  "You  shall  be  my  foster-chil- 
dren and  have  just  as  good  a  time  as 
my  own." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  little  beeches 
and  not  a  word  more. 

But  the  little  oak  did  not  like  the 
strange  trees: 

"It's  awful,  the  way  you're  shoot- 
ing up,"  he  said,  in  a  vexed  tone. 
"You're  already  half  as  tall  as  I  am. 
May  I  beg  you  to  remember  that  I 
am  much  older  than  you  and  of  a 
good  family  besides?" 

The  beeches  laughed  with  their  tiny 
little  green  leaves,  but  said  nothing. 

"Shall  I  bend  my  branches  a  little 

154 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

to  one  side,  so  that  the  sun  can  shine 
on  you  better?"  asked  the  old  tree, 
politely. 

"Much  obliged,"  replied  the  beeches. 
"We  can  grow  quite  nicely  in  the 
shade." 

4 

And  all  that  summer  passed  and 
another  summer  and  still  more.  The 
beeches  went  on  growing  steadily 
and  at  last  grew  right  over  the  little 
oak's  head. 

"Keep  your  leaves  to  yourselves!" 
cried  the  oak.  "You're  standing  in 
my  light;  and  that  I  can't  endure.  1 
must  have  proper  sunshine.  Take 
your  leaves  away,  else  I  shall  die." 

The  beeches  only  laughed  and  went 
on  growing.  At  last,  they  met  right 
above  the  little  oak's  head  and  then 
he  died. 

155 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

"That  was  ill  done!"  roared  the  big 
oaks  and  shook  their  branches  in 
anger. 

But  the  old  oak  stood  up  for  his 
foster-children. 

"Serve  him  right!"  he  said.  "That's 
the  reward  of  his  bragging.  I  say  it, 
although  he  is  my  own  flesh  and 
blood.  But  you  must  be  careful  now, 
you  little  beeches,  for  else  I  shall 
slap  you  on  the  head  too." 

5 

The  years  passed  and  the  beeches 
kept  on  growing  and  gradually  be- 
came slim  young  trees  that  reached 
right  up  among  the  old  oak's 
branches. 

"You're  beginning  to  be  rather  in- 
trusive for  my  taste,"  said  the  old 
oak.  "You  had  better  try  to  grow  a 

156 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

bit  thicker  and  give  up  shooting  into 
the  air  like  that.  Just  look  how  your 
branches  stick  out.  Bend  them  de- 
cently, as  you  see  us  do.  How  will 
you  manage  when  a  regular  storm 
comes?  Take  it  from  me,  the  wind 
shakes  the  tree-tops  finely!  He  has 
many  a  time  come  whistling  through 
my  old  branches;  and  how  do  you 
think  that  you'll  come  off,  with  that 
meagre  display  which  you  stick  up  in 
the  air?" 

"Every  one  grows  in  his  own  man- 
ner and  we  in  ours,"  replied  the 
young  beeches.  "This  is  the  way  it's 
done  where  we  come  from;  and  we 
dare  say  we  are  just  as  good  as  you." 

"That's  not  a  very  polite  remark  to 
make  to  an  old  tree  with  moss  on  his 
branches,"  said  the  oak.  "I  am  begin- 
ning to  regret  that  I  was  so  good  to 

157 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

you.  If  you  have  a  scrap  of  honour 
in  your  composition,  then  have  the 
kindness  to  move  your  leaves  a  little 
to  one  side.  Last  year,  there  were 
hardly  any  buds  on  my  lower  branch- 
es, all  through  your  standing  in  my 
light." 

"We  can't  quite  see  what  that  has 
to  do  with  us,"  replied  the  beeches. 
"Every  one  has  enough  to  do  to  look 
after  himself.  If  he  is  industrious 
and  successful,  then  things  go  well 
with  him.  If  not,  he  must  be  content 
to  go  to  the  wall.  Such  is  the  way  of 
the  world." 

And  the  oak's  lower  branches  died 
and  he  began  to  be  terribly  fright- 
ened. 

"You're  nice  fellows,  you  are,"  he 
said,  "the  way  you  reward  me  for  my 
hospitality!  When  you  were  little,  I 

158 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

let  you  grow  on  my  food  and  pro- 
tected you  against  the  storm.  I 
let  the  sun  shine  on  you  whenever  he 
wanted  to  and  I  treated  you  as  if  you 
were  my  own  children.  And  now  you 
choke  me  by  way  of  thanks." 

"Fudge!"  said  the  beeches. 

Then  they  blossomed  and  put  forth 
fruit  and,  when  the  fruit  was  ripe, 
the  wind  shook  their  branches  and 
spread  it  all  around. 

"You  are  active  people,  like  my- 
self," said  the  wind.  "That's  why  I 
like  you  and  will  gladly  give  you  a 
hand." 

And  the  fox  rolled  at  the  foot  of 
the  beech  and  filled  his  coat  with 
the  prickly  fruit  and  ran  all  over  the 
country  with  it.  The  bear  did  the  same 
and  moreover  laughed  at  the  old  oak 
while  he  lay  and  rested  in  the  shadow 

159 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

of  the  beech.  The  wood-mouse  was 
delighted  with  the  new  food  which 
he  got  and  thought  that  beech-nuts 
tasted  much  better  than  acorns. 

New  little  beeches  shot  up  round 
about  and  grew  just  as  quickly  as 
their  parents  and  looked  as  green 
and  happy  as  if  they  did  not  know 
what  a  bad  conscience  was. 

But  the  old  oak  gazed  out  sadly 
over  the  forest.  The  light  beech- 
leaves  peeped  forth  on  every  hand 
and  the  oaks  sighed  and  told  one  an- 
other their  troubles. 

"They  are  taking  our  power  from 
us,"  they  said  and  shook  themselves 
as  well  as  they  could  for  the  beeches. 
"The  land  is  no  longer  ours." 

One  branch  died  after  the  other  and 
the  storm  broke  them  off  and  flung 
them  to  the  ground.  The  old  oak  had 

160 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

now  only  a  few  leaves  left  in  his 
top. 

"The  end  is  at  hand,"  he  said, 
gravely. 

But  there  were  many  more  people 
in  the  land  now  than  before  and  they 
hastened  to  cut  down  the  oaks  while 
there  were  still  some  left: 

"Oak  makes  better  timber  than 
beech,"  they  said. 

"So  at  last  we  get  a  little  apprecia- 
tion," said  the  old  oak.  "But  we  shall 
have  to  pay  for  it  with  our  lives." 

Then  he  said  to  the  beech-trees: 

"What  was  I  thinking  of,  when  I 
helped  you  on  in  your  youth?  What 
an  old  fool  I  have  been!  We  oak- 
trees  used  to  be  lords  of  the  land  and 
now,  year  after  year,  I  have  had  to 
see  my  brothers  all  around  succumb 
in  the  struggle  against  you.  I  myself 

161 


THE  BEECH  AND  THE  OAK 

am  almost  done  for  and  not  one  of 
my  acorns  has  shot  up,  thanks  to 
your  shadow.  But,  before  I  die,  I 
should  like  to  know  what  you  call 
your  behaviour. 

"That's  soon  said,  old  friend!"  re- 
plied the  beeches.  "We  call  it  compe- 
tition and  it's  no  discovery  of  ours. 
It's  that  which  rules  the  world." 

"I  don't  know  those  foreign  words 
of  yours,"  said  the  oak.  "I  call  it 
rank  ingratitude." 

Then  he  died. 


162 


THE    WEEDS 


THE    WEEDS 


IT  was  a  fine  and  fruitful  year. 

Rain  and  sunshine  came  turn  and 
turn  about,  in  just  the  way  that  was 
best  for  the  corn.  No  sooner  did  the 
farmer  think  that  it  was  getting 
rather  dry,  than  he  could  be  quite 
sure  that  it  would  rain  the  next  day. 
And,  if  he  was  of  opinion  that  he 
had  had  rain  enough,  then  the  clouds 
parted  at  once,  just  as  though  it 
were  the  farmer  that  was  in  com- 
mand. 

The  farmer,  therefore,  was  in  a 
good  humour  and  did  not  complain, 
as  otherwise  he  always  did.  Glad  and 

165 


THE  WEEDS 

rejoicing,  he  walked  over  the  land 
with  his  two  boys. 

"It  will  be  a  splendid  harvest  this 
year,"  he  said.  "I  shall  get  my  barns 
full  and  make  lots  of  money.  Then 
Jens  and  Ole  shall  have  a  new  pair 
of  trousers  apiece  and  I  will  take 
them  with  me  to  market." 

"If  you  don't  cut  me  soon,  farmer, 
I  shall  be  lying  down  flat,"  said  the 
rye  and  bowed  her  heavy  ears  right 
down  to  the  ground. 

Now  the  farmer  could  not  hear 
this,  but  was  quite  able  to  see  what 
the  rye  was  thinking  of;  and  so  he 
went  home  to  fetch  his  sickle. 

"It's  a  good  thing  to  be  in  the  serv- 
ice of  men,"  said  the  rye.  "I  can  be 
sure  now  that  all  my  grains  will  be 
well  taken  care  of.  Most  of  them  will 
go  to  the  mill  and  that,  certainly,  is 
166 


THE  WEEDS 

not  very  pleasant.  But  afterwards 
they  will  turn  into  beautiful  fresh 
bread;  and  one  must  suffer  some- 
thing for  honour's  sake.  What  re- 
mains the  farmer  will  keep  and  sow 
next  year  on  his  land." 

2 

Along  the  hedge  and  beside  the 
ditch  stood  the  weeds.  Thistle  and 
burdock,  poppy  and  bell-flower  and 
dandelion  grew  in  thick  clusters  and 
all  had  their  heads  full  of  seed.  For 
them  too  it  had  been  a  fruitful  year, 
for  the  sun  shines  and  the  rain  falls 
on  the  poor  weeds  just  as  much  as  on 
the  rich  corn. 

"There's  no  one  to  cut  us  and  cart 
us  to  the  barn,"  said  the  dandelion 
and  shook  her  head,  but  very  care- 
fully, lest  the  seed  should  fall  out  too 

167 


THE  WEEDS 

soon.  "What  is  to  become  of  our  chil- 
dren?" 

"It  gives  me  a  headache  to  think  of 
it,"  said  the  poppy.  "Here  I  stand, 
with  many  hundreds  of  seeds  in  my 
head,  and  I  have  no  idea  where  to 
dispose  of  them." 

"Let's  ask  the  rye's  advice,"  said  the 
burdock. 

And  then  they  asked  the  rye  what 
they  ought  to  do. 

"It  doesn't  do  to  mix  in  other  peo- 
ple's affairs  when  one's  well  off," 
said  the  rye.  "There  is  only  one  piece 
of  advice  that  I  will  give  you:  mind 
you  don't  fling  your  silly  seed  over 
my  field,  or  you'll  have  me  to  deal 
with!" 

Now  this  advice  was  of  no  use  to 
the  wild  flowers  and  they  stood  all 
day  pondering  as  to  what  they  should 

168 


THE  WEEDS 

do.  When  the  sun  went  down,  they 
closed  their  petals  to  go  to  sleep,  but 
they  dreamt  all  night  of  their  seed 
and  the  next  morning  they  had  found 
a  remedy. 

The  poppy  was  the  first  to  wake. 

She  carefully  opened  some  little 
shutters  in  the  top  of  her  head,  so 
that  the  sun  could  shine  right  in  upon 
the  seeds.  Next,  she  called  to  the 
morning-wind,  who  was  running  and 
playing  along  the  hedge. 

"Dear  wind,"  she  said,  pleasantly. 
"Will  you  do  me  a  service?" 

"Why  not?"  said  the  wind.  "I  don't 
mind  having  something  to  do." 

"It's  a  mere  trifle,"  said  the  pop- 
py. "I  will  only  ask  you  to  give  a 
good  shake  to  my  stalk,  so  that  my 
seeds  can  fly  far  away  out  of  the 

shutters." 

169 


THE  WEEDS 

"Right  you  are,"  said  the  wind. 

And  away  flew  the  seeds  to  every 
side.  The  stalk  certainly  snapped; 
but  that  the  poppy  did  not  bother 
about.  For,  when  one  has  provided 
well  for  one's  children,  there's  really 
nothing  left  to  do  in  this  world. 

"Good-bye,"  said  the  wind  and 
wanted  to  go  on. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  said  the  poppy. 
"Promise  me  first  that  you  won't  tell 
the  others.  Else  they  might  have  the 
same  idea  and  then  there  would  be 
less  room  for  my  seed." 

"I  shall  be  silent  as  the  grave,"  said 
the  wind  and  ran  away. 

"Pst!  Pst!"  said  the  bell-flower. 
"Have  you  a  moment  to  do  me  a  tiny 
little  service?" 

"All  right,"  said  the  wind.  "What 
is  it?" 

170 


THE  WEEDS 

"Oh,  I  only  wanted  to  ask  you  to 
shake  me  a  little,"  said  the  bell- 
flower.  "I  have  opened  some  of  the 
shutters  in  my  head  and  I  should  like 
to  have  my  seed  sent  a  good  distance 
out  into  the  world.  But  you  must  be 
sure  not  to  tell  the  others,  or  they 
might  think  of  doing  the  same 
thing." 

"Lord  preserve  us!"  said  the  wind 
and  laughed.  "I  shall  be  mute  as  a 
fish." 

And  then  he  gave  the  flower  a  thor- 
ough good  shaking  and  went  on. 

"Dear  wind,  dear  wind!"  cried  the 
dandelion.  "Where  are  you  off  to  so 
fast?" 

"Is  there  anything  the  matter  with 
you  too?"  asked  the  wind. 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  the  dandelion.  "I 
only  wanted  a  word  with  you." 

171 


THE  WEEDS 

"Then  be  quick  about  it,"  said  the 
wind,  "for  I  am  thinking  seriously 
of  going  down." 

"You  see,"  said  the  dandelion,  "it's 
very  difficult  for  us  this  year  to  get 
all  our  seed  settled;  and  yet  one 
would  like  to  do  the  best  one  can 
for  one's  children.  How  the  bell- 
flower  and  the  poppy  and  the  poor 
burdock  will  manage  I  do  not 
know,  upon  my  word.  But  the  this- 
tle and  I  have  combined  and  have 
hit  upon  an  expedient.  You  shall 
help  us." 

"That  makes  four  in  all,"  thought 
the  wind  and  could  not  help  laugh- 
ing aloud. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  asked 
the  dandelion.  "I  saw  you  whisper- 
ing with  the  bell-flower  and  the  pop- 
py just  now;  but,  if  you  tell  them  a 

172 


THE  WEEDS 

thing,  then  you  will  simply  get  no- 
thing out  of  me." 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?"  said 
the  wind.  "Mum's  the  word!  What 
is  it  you  want?" 

"We've  put  out  a  nice  little  um- 
brella right  up  at  the  top  of  our  seed. 
It's  the  sweetest  little  toy  you  can 
think  of.  If  you  only  just  blow  on 
me,  it  will  fly  up  in  the  air  and  fall 
down  wherever  you  please.  Will 

9" 

you? 

"Certainly,"  said  the  wind. 

And,  whoosh!  he  blew  over  the 
thistle  and  the  dandelion  and  took  all 
their  seeds  with  him  across  the  fields. 

3 

The  burdock  still  stood  pondering. 
She  was  thick-headed  and  that  was 
why  she  took  so  long.  But,  in  the 

173 


THE  WEEDS 

evening,  a  hare  jumped  over  the 
hedge. 

"Hide  me!  Save  me!"  he  cried. 
"Farmer's  Trust  is  after  me." 

"Creep  round  behind  the  hedge," 
said  the  burdock;  "then  I'll  hide  you." 

"You  don't  look  to  me  as  if  you 
were  cut  out  for  the  job,"  said  the 
hare;  "but  beggars  can't  be  choos- 
ers." 

And  then  he  hid  behind  the  hedge. 

"Now,  in  return,  you  might  take 
some  of  my  seeds  to  the  fields  with 
you,"  said  the  burdock  and  she  broke 
off  some  of  her  many  burs  and  scat- 
tered them  over  the  hare. 

Soon  after,  Trust  came  running 
along  the  hedge. 

"Here's  the  dog!"  whispered  the 
burdock  and,  with  a  bound,  the  hare 
leapt  the  hedge  into  the  rye. 

174 


THE  WEEDS 

"Have  you  seen  the  hare?"  asked 
Trust.  "I  can  see  that  I'm  getting 
too  old  for  hunting.  One  of  my  eyes 
is  quite  blind  and  my  nose  can  no 
longer  find  the  scent." 

"I  have  seen  him,"  replied  the  bur- 
dock, "and,  if  you  will  do  me  a  ser- 
vice, I  will  show  you  where  he  is." 

Trust  agreed  and  the  burdock  stuck 
some  of  her  burs  on  to  his  back  and 
said: 

"Would  you  just  rub  yourself 
against  the  stile  here,  inside  the  field? 
But  that's  not  where  you're  to  look 
for  the  hare,  for  I  saw  him  run  into 
the  wood  a  little  while  ago." 

Trust  carried  the  burs  to  the  field 
and  ran  off  to  the  wood. 

"So  now  I've  got  my  seeds  settled," 
said  the  burdock  and  laughed  to  her- 
self contentedly.  "But  goodness 

175 


THE  WEEDS 

knows  how  the  thistle  is  going  to 
manage  and  the  dandelion  and  the 
bell-flower  and  the  poppy!" 

4 

Next  spring,  already  the  rye  stood 
quite  high. 

"We  are  well  off,  considering  all 
things,"  said  the  rye-stalks.  "Here  we 
are  in  a  great  company  that  contains 
none  but  our  own  good  family.  And 
we  don't  hamper  one  another  in  the 
very  least.  It's  really  an  excellent 
thing  to  be  in  the  service  of  men." 

But,  one  fine  day,  a  number  of  little 
poppies  and  thistles  and  dandelions 
and  burdocks  and  bell-flowers  stuck 
their  heads  up  above  the  ground  in 
the  midst  of  the  luxuriant  rye. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this  now?" 

176 


THE  WEEDS 

asked  the  rye.  "How  in  the  world 
did  you  get  here?" 

And  the  poppy  looked  at  the  bell- 
flower  and  asked: 

"How  did  you  get  here?" 

And  the  thistle  looked  at  the  bur- 
dock and  asked: 

"How  on  earth  did  you  get  here?" 

They  were  all  equally  surprised  and 
it  was  some  time  before  they  had 
done  explaining.  But  the  rye  was  the 
angriest  and,  when  she  had  heard  all 
about  Trust  and  the  hare  and  the 
wind,  she  was  quite  furious. 

"Thank  goodness  that  the  farmer 
shot  the  hare  in  the  autumn,"  said 
she.  "And  Trust,  luckily,  is  dead  too, 
the  old  scamp!  So  I  have  no  further 
quarrel  with  them.  But  how  dare  the 
wind  carry  the  seed  of  the  weeds  on 
to  the  farmer's  land!" 

177 


THE  WEEDS 

"Softly,  softly,  you  green  rye!" 
said  the  wind,  who  had  been  lying 
behind  the  hedge  and  had  heard  all 
this.  "I  ask  no  one's  leave,  but  do  as 
I  please ;  and  now  I  shall  compel  you 
to  bow  before  me." 

Then  he  blew  over  the  young  rye, 
so  that  the  thin  stalks  swayed  to  and 
fro. 

"You  see,"  he  then  said,  "the  far- 
mer looks  after  his  rye,  for  that's  his 
business.  But  the  rain  and  the  sun 
and  I:  we  interest  ourselves  in  all  of 
you  alike,  without  distinction  of  per- 
sons. For  us  the  poor  weeds  are  quite 
as  attractive  as  the  rich  corn." 

Now  the  farmer  came  out  to  look  at 
his  rye  and,  when  he  saw  the  weeds 
that  stood  in  the  fields,  he  was  vexed 
and  scratched  his  head  and  began  to 
scold  in  his  turn. 

178 


THE  WEEDS 

"That's  that  dirty  wind,"  he  said  to 
Jens  and  Ole,  who  stood  beside  him 
with  their  hands  in  the  pockets  of 
their  new  trousers. 

But  the  wind  dashed  up  and  blew 
off  the  hats  of  all  three  of  them 
and  trundled  them  ever  so  far  away. 
The  farmer  and  his  boys  ran  after 
them,  but  the  wind  was  the  quicker. 
At  last,  he  rolled  the  hats  out  into 
the  pond  and  the  farmer  and  his  boys 
had  to  stand  ever  so  long  and  fish  for 
them  before  they  got  them  out. 


179 


THE   WATER-LILY   AND 
THE    DRAGON-FLY 


THE    WATER-LILY   AND 
THE    DRAGON-FLY 


A  LITTLE  stream  ran  between  trees 
and  bushes.  Along  the  banks  stood 
tall,  slender  reeds  and  whispered  to 
the  wind.  In  the  middle  of  the  water 
floated  the  water-lily,  with  her  white 
flower  and  her  broad,  green  leaves. 
Generally  the  water  was  very  still, 
but  when,  as  sometimes  happened, 
the  wind  went  for  a  trip  over  the 
surface  of  the  stream,  then  the  reeds 
rustled  and  the  water-lilies  dived 
right  down  under  the  water  and  the 
leaves  flew  up  or  to  either  side,  so 
that  the  thick  green  stalks,  which 

183 


THE  WATER-LILY 

came  all  the  way  from  the  bottom, 
found  it  difficult  to  hold  them  tight. 

All  day  long,  a  dragon-fly  grub 
crept  up  and  down  the  water-lily's 
stem. 

"What  a  terrible  bore  it  must  be," 
said  the  grub,  looking  up  at  the  flow- 
ers, "to  be  a  water-lily!" 

"You  speak  of  things  which  you 
don't  understand,"  replied  the  water- 
lily.  "It  is  just  the  pleasantest  thing 
in  the  world." 

"Well,  I  can't  understand  that," 
said  the  grub.  "I  should  always  want 
to  be  tearing  myself  free  and  flying 
round  like  a  great,  splendid  dragon- 

fly." 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  water-lily.  "A 
fine  pleasure  that  would  be!  No,  to 
lie  peacefully  on  the  water  and 
dream  and  to  drink  sunshine  and 

184 


AND  THE  DRAGON-FLY 

now  and  again  to  rock  upon  the 
waves:  there's  some  sense  in  that." 

The  grub  reflected  for  a  moment 
and  then  said: 

"I  have  higher  aspirations.  If  I 
could  have  my  way,  I  should  be  a 
dragon-fly.  I  should  skim  over  the 
water  on  great  stiff  wings,  kiss  the 
white  flowers,  rest  for  a  second  on 
your  leaves  and  then  fly  on  again." 

"You  are  ambitious,"  said  the  wa- 
ter-lily, "and  that  is  silly.  Wise  peo- 
ple know  when  they  are  well  off. 
May  I  make  so  free  as  to  ask  you 
what  you  would  propose  to  do  to  turn 
into  a  dragon-fly?  You  don't  look  as 
if  you  were  made  for  one.  In  any 
case,  you  must  see  that  you  grow  up 
prettier;  you're  very  gray  and  ugly 
now." 

"Yes,  that's  the  pity  of  it,"  said  the 

185 


THE  WATER-LILY 

grub,  a  little  disheartened.  "I  myself 
don't  know  how  it  is  to  happen;  but 
I  still  hope  that  it  will.  That's  why  I 
crawl  around  here  and  eat  all  the 
little  insects  I  can  catch." 

"Ah,  so  you  think  you  can  eat  your- 
self into  something  big!"  said  the 
water-lily,  mockingly.  "That  would 
be  a  pleasant  way  of  improving  one's 
condition." 

"Yes,  but  I  believe  it's  the  right  way 
for  me!"  cried  the  dragon-fly  grub. 
"I  shall  eat  and  eat  all  day,  till  I 
grow  stout  and  fat,  and  then,  one 
fine  morning,  I  hope  my  fat  will 
change  into  wings  with  gold  on  them 
and  all  the  rest  that  a  real  dragon- 
fly wants." 

The  water-lily  shook  her  wise  white 
head : 

"Let  those  foolish  thoughts  be,"  she 

186 


AND  THE  DRAGON-FLY 

said,  "and  learn  to  be  contented  with 
your  lot.  You  can  now  live  in  peace 
and  quiet  among  my  leaves  and  creep 
up  and  down  my  stalk  as  much  as 
ever  you  like.  You  have  plenty  of 
food  and  no  cares  nor  worries:  what 
more  can  you  want?" 

"You  have  an  inferior  nature,"  an- 
swered the  grub,  "and  therefore  you 
have  no  sense  of  higher  things.  I 
want  to  become  a  dragon-fly!" 

And  then  she  crept  down  to  the  bot- 
tom to  catch  lots  of  little  insects  and 
eat  herself  fatter  than  ever. 

The  water-lily  lay  quietly  on  the 
water  and  reflected: 

"I  can't  understand  animals!"  she 
said  to  herself.  "They  do  nothing  but 
dance  about  from  morn  till  night, 
hunt  and  eat  one  another  and  know 
no  moment's  peace.  We  flowers  are 

187 


THE  WATER-LILY 

more  sensible.  We  grow  up  calmly 
and  placidly,  side  by  side,  drink  sun- 
shine and  rain  and  take  everything 
as  it  comes.  And  I  am  the  luckiest  of 
them  all.  How  often  have  I  not  float- 
ed contentedly  here  on  the  water, 
while  the  other  flowers  were  suffer- 
ing from  the  drought  on  land!  We 
flowers  are  by  far  the  happier;  but 
that  is  what  those  stupid  animals  fail 
to  see." 


When  the  sun  set  in  the  evening, 
the  dragon-fly  grub  lay  very  still  on 
the  stalk  with  her  legs  drawn  up  un- 
der her.  She  had  eaten  a  heap  of  in- 
sects and  was  so  fat  that  she  felt  as 
though  she  would  burst.  And  yet  she 
was  not  glad:  she  pondered  on  what 
the  water-lily  had  said  and  could  not 

188 


AND  THE  DRAGON-FLY 

sleep  all  night  for  restless  thinking. 
And  all  that  reflecting  made  her  head 
ache,  for  it  was  a  labour  to  which  she 
was  not  used.  And  she  felt  pains  in 
her  back  too  and  in  her  chest.  It  was 
as  though  she  were  going  to  be  pulled 
to  pieces  and  die  on  the  spot. 

When  morning  began  to  break,  she 
could  bear  it  no  longer: 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,"  she  cried 
in  despair.  "These  pains  hurt  so  that 
I  can't  think  what  is  to  become  of 
me.  Perhaps  the  water-lily  is  right 
and  I  shall  never  be  more  than  a  poor, 
wretched  grub.  But  the  thought  of 
that  is  too  terrible!  I  should  so  love 
to  turn  into  a  dragon-fly  and  fly 
about  in  the  sun.  Oh,  my  back,  my 
back!  I  must  be  dying!" 

Again  she  felt  as  if  her  back  was 
bursting  and  she  screamed  for  pain. 

189 


THE  WATER-LILY 

At  the  same  moment,  the  reeds  on 
the  bank  began  to  rustle. 

"That  is  the  morning-wind," 
thought  the  grub.  "At  least,  let  me 
see  the  sun  once  more  before  I  die." 

And,  with  a  great  effort,  she  crawled 
to  one  of  the  leaves  of  the  water-lily, 
stretched  out  her  legs  and  prepared 
for  death. 

But,  when  the  sun  had  risen  and 
stood  red  and  motionless  in  the  east, 
suddenly  there  came  an  opening  right 
in  the  middle  of  the  grub's  back,  ac- 
companied by  a  frightful  itching. 
Oh,  the  pain  of  it,  the  anguish!  It 
was  a  terrible  feeling.  Almost  swoon- 
ing, she  closed  her  eyes,  but  the  ago- 
ny and  the  itching  grew  no  less. 
And  then,  suddenly,  she  perceived 
that  the  pain  was  gone;  and,  when 
she  opened  her  eyes,  she  was  hover- 

190 


AND  THE  DRAGON-FLY 

ing  through  the  air  on  stiff,  glitter- 
ing wings,  a  brilliant  dragon-fly! 
Beneath  her,  on  the  leaf  of  the  water- 
lily,  lay  the  ugly  gray  covering  which 
she  had  worn  as  a  grub. 

"Hurrah!"  cried  the  new  dragon- 
fly. "Now  the  wish  of  my  heart  is 
fulfilled." 

And  she  flew  through  the  air  as 
swiftly  as  though  she  meant  to  fly  to 
the  end  of  the  earth. 

"The  hussy  has  got  her  way  after 
all!"  thought  the  water-lily.  "Now 
we  shall  see  if  she  is  more  contented 
than  before." 

3 

Two  days  later,  the  dragon-fly  came 
flying  up  and  settled  on  the  flowers 
of  the  water-lily. 

"Good-morning,"    said    the    water- 

191 


THE  WATER-LILY 

lily.  "So  you've  come  at  last.  I  was 
beginning  to  think  that  you  had 
grown  too  grand  to  come  and  see 
your  old  friends." 

"Good-morning,"  said  the  dragon- 
fly. "Where  shall  I  lay  my  eggs?" 

"Oh,  you'll  find  a  place  somewhere," 
replied  the  flower.  "Sit  down  first  and 
tell  me  if  you  are  happier  now  than 
when  you  were  an  ugly  little  grub 
crawling  up  and  down  my  stalk." 

"Where  can  I  lay  my  eggs?  Oh, 
wherever  can  I  lay  my  eggs?"  cried 
the  dragon-fly  and  flew  buzzing  from 
leaf  to  leaf,  laying  one  here  and  one 
there,  and  at  last  sat  down,  tired  and 
exhausted,  on  a  leaf. 

"Well?"  said  the  water-lily. 

"Oh,  I  was  much  better  off  then," 
sighed  the  dragon-fly.  "The  sun- 
shine is  glorious  and  it  is  a  great  de- 

192 


AND  THE  DRAGON-FLY 

light  to  fly  over  the  water,  but  I 
never  have  time  to  enjoy  it.  I  tell  you, 
I'm  awfully  busy.  In  the  old  days, 
I  had  nothing  to  think  of.  And  now 
I  have  to  fly  about  all  day  long  to 
lay  these  silly  eggs.  I  haven't  a  mo- 
ment to  myself  and  have  hardly  time 
to  eat." 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  cried  the 
water-lily,  triumphantly.  "Didn't  I 
prophesy  that  your  happiness  would 
be  no  greater?" 

"Good-bye,"  said  the  dragon-fly, 
with  a  sigh.  "I  have  no  time  to  listen 
to  you:  I  must  go  and  lay  more 
eggs." 

But,  just  as  she  was  about  to  fly 
away,  the  starling  came: 

"I  say,  I  say,  what  a  dear  little 
dragon-fly!"  he  said.  "Just  a  nice  lit- 
tle mouthful  for  my  youngsters  1" 

193 


THE  WATER-LILY 

And  with  a  whizz!  he  snapped  up 
the  dragon-fly  in  his  beak  and  flew 
away  with  her. 

"There  they  go!"  cried  the  water- 
lily,  shaking  her  leaves  with  anger. 
"Those  animals,  those  animals!  What 
extraordinary  creatures  they  are.  I 
must  say  I  prefer  my  own  quiet  life. 
I  hurt  nobody  and  no  one  injures  me. 
I  am  so  hap  .  .  ." 

She  got  no  further,  for  a  boat  glided 
close  past  her. 

"Oh,  what  a  lovely  water-lily!"  said 
Ellen,  who  sat  in  the  stern.  "I  must 
have  it." 

She  bent  over  the  side  and  tore  the 
flower  away.  When  she  got  home, 
she  put  it  into  a  glass  of  water,  where 
it  stood  for  three  days  with  a  lot  of 
other  flowers. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  said 

194 


AND  THE  DRAGON-FLY 

the  water-lily,  on  the  fourth  day.  "I 
have  not  fared  a  whit  better  than  that 
poor  dragon-fly." 

"The  flowers  are  faded,"  said  Ellen 
and  threw  them  out  of  the  window. 

And  the  water-lily  lay  with  her  fair 
white  petals  on  the  dirty  ground. 


195 


AUNT    EIDER-DUCK 


AUNT    EIDER-DUCK 


IT  was  winter. 

The  leaves  were  gone  from  the  trees 
and  the  flowers  from  the  hedge.  The 
birds  too  were  gone,  that  is  to  say 
the  more  important  ones;  they  had 
all  departed  for  the  South. 

But  some,  of  course,  had  remained 
behind. 

There  was  the  everlasting  sparrow, 
for  instance,  and  the  nimble  little  tit- 
mouse, besides  the  crow  and  the  ra- 
ven, who  looked  twice  as  black  and 
hungry  against  the  snow.  There  were 
also  a  few  birds  who  preferred  to 

199 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

take    the    rough    with    the    smooth 
rather  than  travel  so  far  afield. 

Down  on  the  beach  there  was  more 
life  than  in  summer. 

There  were  the  gulls  who  plunged 
about,  in  great  flocks,  wherever  a 
hole  had  been  made  in  the  ice.  And 
there  were  the  wild-duck,  who  swam 
in  the  open  water  and  quacked  and 
dived  and  flew  up  whenever  a  shot 
was  heard  from  the  fishermen's  guns. 

"What  a  crowd!"  said  the  sparrow. 

"They  come  from  the  North,"  said 
the  gull.  "From  Norway  and  the 
Faroe  Islands,  where  it  is  a  hundred 
times  colder  than  here.  As  soon  as 
there  is  the  least  bit  of  a  change  in 
the  temperature,  they  fly  back  again. 
Do  you  know  those  two  who  are  com- 
ing this  way  over  the  ice?" 

"How  should  I  know  them?"  said 

200 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

the  sparrow.  "I  was  born  last  sum- 
mer and  I  only  wish  I  were  back  in 
the  nest!" 

"They  are  eider-ducks,"  said  the 
gull.  "Look,  there's  one  more  com- 
ing." 

So  there  was.  And  he  was  a  very 
handsome  bird.  He  had  a  green  neck, 
a  white  throat  and  a  white  breast, 
with  a  pink  sheen  on  it,  and  lovely 
yellow  legs. 

"That  is  the  drake,"  said  the  gull. 
"The  other  two  are  females  and  not 
so  smart,  although  they  don't  look 
bad  either." 

The  three  eider-ducks  had  now  come 
so  near  that  the  sparrow  and  the  gull 
could  hear  what  they  were  talking 
about. 

"Dear  lady,"  said  the  drake,  "I  can- 
not understand  why  you  stay  on  the 
201 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

ice.  Do  come  to  the  open  water  and 
let  us  all  enjoy  ourselves." 

"I  must  stay  with  my  niece,"  said 
the  elder  eider-duck.  "She  is  my  sis- 
ter's child." 

"And  why  should  not  Miss  Eider- 
Duck  come  too?"  said  the  drake.  "In 
the  summer,  she  was  the  gayest  of 
us  all  in  the  Faroes." 

"That  was  then,"  said  Miss  Eider- 
Duck.  "But  now  I  have  begun  to 
think  of  other  and  more  serious 
things." 

The  drake  tried  just  a  little  longer 
to  persuade  them,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose. Then  he  flew  back  across  the 
ice. 

"Are  there  no  cliffs  here,  auntie?" 
asked  the  young  eider-duck.  "I  am 
dying  to  get  married  and  to  build  a 
nest." 

202 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

"If  I  may  venture  to  make  a  re- 
mark," said  the  sparrow,  "I  should 
say  that  it  is  still  a  little  too  cold. 
And  there  are  no  cliffs  in  this  coun- 
try." 

"But  you  can  brood  in  the  sand," 
said  the  gull. 

"Thank  you  for  the  information, 
my  good  women,"  said  Aunt  Eider- 
Duck.  "But  it  is  only  a  fancy  of  my 
niece's.  She  is  three  years  old  now 
and  marriageable." 

"Lord!"  said  the  sparrow.  "I  was 
born  last  summer  and,  if  it  was  only 
a  little  warmer,  I  could  get  married 
at  once." 

"It's  easier  for  one  than  for  an- 
other," said  the  aunt. 

"Let  us  fly  home  to  the  Faroes  and 
ger  married,  auntie,"  said  the  young 
duck. 

203 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

"In  a  month's  time,  my  child,"  said 
auntie.  "But  I  must  decline  the  hon- 
our for  myself.  I  have  now  been  mar- 
ried seven  times  and  have  had  enough 
of  it.  Still,  I  will  gladly  chat  about 
it  with  you.  That  is  so  awfully  inter- 
esting." 

"The  trees  will  not  be  green  yet  in 
a  month,"  said  the  sparrow.  "This  is 
only  January." 

"We  have  no  trees  in  the  Faroes, 
my  girl,"  said  auntie,  "and  we  don't 
want  them  either." 

"Has  the  young  lady  a  sweetheart?" 
asked  the  gull. 

"Not  yet,"  said  auntie.  "But  he'll 
come.  You  can  get  sweethearts  for 
the  asking.  She  has  spent  her  three 
years  dancing  on  the  sea  and  having 
a  good  time.  One  must  see  a  little  life 
first." 

204 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

"If  only  she  hits  upon  the  right 
one,"  said  the  gull. 

"All  men  are  alike,  my  good 
woman,"  said  auntie.  "They  court 
you  and  marry  you  and,  perhaps, 
just  lend  a  hand  with  the  nest  and 
then  they  go  off  and  leave  the  rest 
to  us." 

"I  can't  say  that  I  agree  with  you, 
ma'am,"  said  the  gull.  "My  hus- 
band has  always  helped  me  faith- 
fully." 

"And  I  got  lots  of  flies  from  my 
father  when  I  was  in  the  nest,"  said 
the  sparrow. 

"Then  you  were  luckier  than  we,'* 
said  auntie.  "Not  one  of  my  seven 
husbands  so  much  as  saw  his  young 
ones." 

"Lord!"  said  the  sparrow. 

"Shall  we  be  going  home  to  the 

205 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

Faroes  soon?"  asked  Miss  Eider- 
Duck. 

"Dear,  dear,  how  interesting  youth 
is!"  said  auntie  and  flapped  her 
wings. 

Then  they  flew  into  the  water;  but, 
the  next  day,  they  came  again  and 
this  happened  every  day  until  well 
into  February.  The  young  eider- 
duck's  longing  for  home  grew  ever 
greater  and  her  aunt  never  tired  of 
talking  to  her  about  it. 

"Now  it's  coming,  now  it's  com- 
ing!" said  she.  "It's  getting  almost 
too  hot  here  to  bear." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  the  sparrow, 
shivering  and  longing  for  the  spring. 

One  day,  a  charming  young  eider- 
drake  came  and  sat  beside  the  two 
ladies  on  the  ice. 

"If  he  proposes  to  you,  accept  him," 

206 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

whispered  auntie.  "He  has  the  green- 
est neck  I've  seen  for  many  a  year." 

"If  only  he  would!"  said  the  young 
girl. 

And  he  did. 

After  sitting  for  a  while  and  talk- 
ing of  indifferent  things,  as  long  as 
etiquette  required  —  and  etiquette 
does  not  demand  half  as  much  of 
eider-duck  as  it  does  of  men — he 
asked  the  young  lady  if  she  would  be 
his  wife.  He  went  on  to  talk  of  birds'- 
nests  and  cliffs  and  dear  little  eggs 
and  so  on,  but  she  stopped  him: 

"Yes,"  she  said;  and  so  they  were 
engaged. 

He  was  awfully  eloquent  and  swore 
to  be  faithful  to  her  all  his  life  and 
to  build  a  nest  for  her  and  to  sit  on 
the  eggs  for  her  and  to  feed  the  chil- 
dren from  morn  till  night.  She 

207 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

nodded  and  could  not  speak  for  sheer 
happiness. 

"Every  word  that  he  says  is  a  lie," 
said  auntie.  "But,  lord,  how  charm- 
ing it  is!" 

"It's  terrible!"  said  the  sparrow  and 
the  gull.  "Such  a  dear  young  lady!" 

"Fiddle!"  said  auntie.  "We  all 
have  to  go  through  it.  My  seven  hus- 
bands all  said  the  same  and  not  one 
of  them  kept  his  promise.  But  they 
were  charming,  for  all  that.  Only 
they  had  not  such  green  necks  as  this 
one.  He's  splendid.  I  could  fall  in 
love  with  him  myself." 

"When  do  we  start?"  asked  Miss 
Eider-Duck. 

"To-morrow  early,  my  darling,  if 
the  wind  is  fair,"  said  her  beau. 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  said  auntie.  "In 
the  first  place,  it's  more  proper.  And 

208 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

then  it's  so  charming  to  see  young 
people  so  happy." 

They  started  the  next  morning. 

It  was  not  yet  light  when  the  birds 
began  their  passage.  Thousands  of 
eider-duck  flew  along  in  successive 
flocks,  while  thousands  more  came  up 
from  every  side.  The  gull  and  the 
sparrow  woke  up  when  they  heard 
the  screaming  and  singing  in  the  air. 

"Fancy  going  north  in  weather  like 
this!"  said  the  sparrow,  shivering. 
"Why,  it's  colder  than  ever!" 

"There's  spring  in  the  air  when 
one's  in  love,"  said  the  gull. 

2 

Day  and  night,  the  northward  flight 
proceeded. 

There  were  so  many  birds  that  they 
were  quite  bewildering  to  see  and,  as 

209 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

time  passed  and  they  neared  their 
destination,  their  longing  increased 
and  they  flew  as  though  there  were 
fire  under  their  wings.  The  aunt 
never  left  the  young  couple  and  was 
as  light  and  swift  as  they  and  as 
happy  as  if  she  herself  were  going  to 
be  married  for  the  eighth  time. 

At  last  they  reached  the  Faroes, 
which  were  their  home. 

They  screamed  and  quacked  for  joy 
when  they  saw  the  rocks  rise  from  the 
sea  and  their  wings  beat  with  re- 
newed vigour,  tired  though  they  were 
by  the  long  journey.  They  fell  upon 
the  cliffs  as  upon  a  prey  and  soon 
there  was  not  a  spot  left  but  a  happy 
bird  sat  in  it  and  flapped  her  wings 
and  screamed. 

"Now  I'll  show  you  a  good  place 
for  a  nest,"  said  auntie  to  the  young 
210 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

pair,  who  sat  exchanging  loving 
looks.  "Come  with  me  to  the  other 
side  of  the  rock." 

They  flew  with  her  and  reached  the 
place  where  the  man  to  whom  the 
rock  belonged  had  put  little  wooden 
boxes  for  the  birds.  There  was  just 
one  empty  one  left  and  the  bride- 
groom at  once  took  possession. 

"Here  you  will  be  able  to  sit  on  the 
eggs  safely  and  comfortably,  my 
darling,"  he  said. 

"Yes — and  you  too,"  she  answered. 
"Don't  you  remember  that  you  prom- 
ised to  help  me  with  my  work?" 

"I  should  think  I  did!"  said  he  and 
kissed  her. 

"Lord,  how  charming!"  said  auntie. 

"And  I  don't  want  to  live  in  that 
nasty  box,"  said  the  young  duck.  "I 
was  looking  forward  most  awfully  to 

211 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

collecting  sea-weed  and  straw  and 
heather,  as  you  told  me  you  used  to 
with  your  former  wife.  And  that's 
what  I  want  to  do  also." 

"Be  easy,  my  dear  little  girl,"  he 
said.  "Of  course,  we  will  line  the  box 
a  bit,  but  let  us  be  glad  that  there  is 
something  to  start  on.  Remember 
that  we  have  a  long  life  before  us, 
full  of  work  and  happiness,  and  don't 
let  us  begin  by  doing  more  than  we 
shall  be  able  to  keep  up." 

"Lord,  how  he  lies!"  said  auntie 
and  cast  up  her  eyes  to  the  sky.  "But 
how  lovely  it  is  to  listen  to!" 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  the  lit- 
tle duck. 

"I  was  saying  that  your  future  hus- 
band has  the  loveliest  green  neck  in 
all  the  Faroes,"  said  auntie.  "I 
should  like  to  give  it  a  little  bite.  But 

212 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

now  I  will  leave  you  to  your  happi- 
ness." 

Then  she  flew  quacking  over  the 
rock  and  splashed  into  the  water  with 
the  others.  The  two  young  people  be- 
gan to  line  their  box  with  what  they 
could  find.  Soon  the  wedding  took 
place,  with  mirth  and  pomp,  and 
thousands  of  other  young  eider-duck 
were  married  on  the  same  day. 

"Lord,  how  beautiful  it  is  to  be 
young!"  said  auntie,  who  was  pay- 
ing wedding-visits  with  a  swarm  of 
other  old  ladies. 

3 

And  the  young  couple  were  com- 
fortable and  very  happy.  But,  when 
she  had  laid  her  first  egg  in  the  nest, 
they  had  a  tiff. 

He  wanted  her  to  go  for  a  little 

213 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

trip  with  him  over  the  rock,  while  the 
egg  lay  in  the  nest,  and  she  had  no 
objection,  but  she  did  think  that  he 
might  have  shown  rather  more  pleas- 
ure at  the  sight  of  that  fine  gray- 
green  egg. 

"I  am  saving  up  my  emotions,"  he 
said,  "as  befits  a  man.  Come  along." 

Then  she  said,  however,  that  it  was 
out  of  the  question  to  leave  the  egg 
lying  like  that,  with  nothing  over  it. 
They  must  cover  it  with  something. 
She  plucked  some  fine  down  from 
under  her  wings  and  laid  it  on  the 
egg.  But  when  she  asked  him  to  do 
the  same,  he  shook  his  head  with  de- 
cision. 

"I  am  saving  up  my  feathers,"  he 
said.  "You  will  lay  four  more  eggs 
and  my  turn  will  come  when  you've 
run  out  of  down.  I  shall  pluck  my- 

214 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

self  bald  if  it's  for  the  good  of  our 
children." 

"Lord,  how  he's  romancing!"  said 
auntie,  who  was  standing  near  and 
heard  all  they  said.  "He's  just  like 
my  own  husbands.  They  don't  mean 
a  word  of  it,  but  still  it  does  an  old 
heart  good  to  hear  them." 

The  young  wife  now  accompanied 
her  husband  to  the  beach,  where  all 
was  life  and  jollity. 

Scores  of  husbands  were  there  with 
their  wives  and  all  the  old  gentlemen 
and  ladies  who  no  longer  had  a  nest. 
They  dived  and  chatted  and  told 
funny  stories.  But  the  young  wife 
mostly  sat  apart  or  talked  to  the 
other  young  wives,  who  also  were  in 
a  rather  solemn  mood.  And  soon  she 
declared  that  she  must  positively  lay 
another  egg. 

215 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

"Come,  dear,"  she  said.  "Come,  let 
us  go  home.  There's  a  new  egg  com- 
ing." 

"What  a  misfortune!"  said  her  hus- 
band, who  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
quadrille  with  a  couple  of  young 
ducks  of  the  summer  before,  who 
were  not  yet  thinking  of  marriage. 

But  he  went  back  with  her  to  the 
nest  and  she  laid  her  egg.  She 
plucked  some  more  down,  while  he 
addressed  her  in  beautiful  and  touch- 
ing phrases,  and  then  they  went  out 
again,  for  he  simply  could  not  stay 
at  home  in  the  nest. 

But  they  had  not  gone  half-way 
when  she  felt  another  egg  coming 
and  told  him  so. 

"You  had  better  stay  up  there  in 
the  nest,"  he  said,  crossly.  "This 
running  to  and  fro  does  not  amuse 

216 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

me  and  is  bad  for  the  children's 
health." 

"Won't  you  stay  with  me?"  she 
asked. 

"I'll  come  and  have  a  look  at  you 
as  often  as  I  can,"  he  said. 

"And  that's  the  way  you  keep  the 
promises  you  made  me!"  said  she  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"My  own  darling  little  wife!"  he 
said.  "I  can't  help  you  the  least  lit- 
tle bit  with  the  eggs.  You've  got  to 
lay  them  and  lay  them  you  must.  My 
work  for  our  dear  children  and  for 
yourself  will  begin  when  the  eggs  are 
all  laid  and  you  have  started  hatch- 
ing them.  And  then,  of  course,  when 
the  little  darlings  come  out,  they  will 
have  to  be  fed  and  taught  how  to  get 
on  in  the  world.  I  am  saving  up  my 
strength  till  that  time  comes,  you  see. 
217 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

And  then  I  will  sit  on  the  eggs,  while 
you  go  for  a  nice  little  trip  and  play 
about  with  the  others  down  below." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  the  like?"  said 
auntie.  "How  beautifully  he  talks! 
You've  got  a  really  nice  husband." 

And  so  the 'young  wife  went  back 
to  the  nest  alone  and  laid  her  third 
egg.  Auntie  flew  down  to  the  beach 
with  the  husband: 

"I'll  look  after  him,  dear,"  she  whis- 
pered ;  "trust  me  for  that." 

And  then  the  fourth  egg  came  and 
the  fifth. 

She  had  plucked  all  the  feathers 
from  her  breast  that  she  thought  she 
could  spare  and  placed  them  in  a 
nice  little,  mouse-gray  heap  around 
the  eggs.  Then  she  sat  upon  them 
herself  and  brooded  and  brooded.  At 
first,  from  time  to  time,  she  went  to 

218 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

the  edge  of  the  cliff  to  look  down  at 
the  beach,  where  her  husband  was 
with  the  other  men  and  the  ladies 
who  had  no  eggs.  But  she  did  this 
less  and  less  often.  She  took  no  food, 
grew  thin  and  brooded  and  brooded. 
Her  aunt  called  every  day  to  have 
a  chat  with  her. 

4 

One  day,  the  husband  came  and  sat 
down  by  the  nest.  He  looked  very 
spruce  with  his  green  neck  and  his 
bright  eyes. 

"Well,  how  are  you  getting  on?"  he 
asked. 

"I  despise  you,"  she  said.  "Go  away 
and  never  show  your  face  to  me 
again.  You  coaxed  me  with  your  fair 
promises  and  not  one  of  them  have 
you  kept.  I  have  had  to  pluck  all  the 

219 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

down  I  wanted  from  my  own  breast. 
I've  been  sitting  here  alone,  day  af- 
ter day,  while  you've  been  amusing 
yourself  with  all  those  revellers  on 
the  beach.  You  haven't  brought  me  a 
bite  of  food." 

"Tush!"  he  said,  scratching  in  the 
sand  with  his  fine,  yellow  feet.  "I 
shall  be  pleased  to  bring  you  a  small 
mussel  from  time  to  time,  if  that 
gives  you  any  satisfaction.  But,  for 
goodness'  sake,  don't  be  so  formal! 
Do  you  really  imagine  that  men 
weigh  their  words  when  they're  en- 
gaged?" 

"Get  out  of  this!"  she  screamed.  "I 
don't  want  my  children  to  see  their 
unnatural  father." 

"Oh,  as  for  that,  I  wouldn't  give  a 
straw  to  see  that  callow  brood,"  he 
replied.  "And,  upon  my  word,  you're 

220 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

no  beauty  yourself!  You're  so  lean 
and  full  of  bald  spots.  You're  very 
different  from  the  pretty  girl  I  fell 
in  love  with." 

She  was  about  to  fly  up  out  of  the 
nest  and  give  him  one  for  himself; 
but  she  lay  as  though  rooted  to  the 
floor  and  stared  at  a  man  who  put  his 
head  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Her 
husband  flew  away  with  a  loud 
scream  and  auntie  did  the  same.  But 
the  man  hardly  gave  them  a  glance. 
He  scrambled  up  the  rock  and  set 
down  a  great  basket,  which  he  car- 
ried, beside  the  nest. 

"What  a  fine  nest!"  he  said.  "There's 
down  enough  here  to  stuff  a  little  pil- 
low with." 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  the 
eider-duck. 

"I  shan't  hurt  you,"  said  the  man. 

221 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

"It  would  be  silly  of  me  to  do  you 
any  harm;  why,  I  put  the  box  here 
for  you  myself.  I  only  want  the 
down  that's  in  your  nest." 

"Never!"  cried  the  bird,  spreading 
out  her  wings  and  holding  on  to  the 
nest  as  fast  as  she  could.  "What 
should  I  do  with  my  children?" 

"Why,  pluck  some  more  down  from 
your  pretty  breast,  my  dear,"  said 
the  man,  kindly.  "Now  stand  aside 
and  let  me  get  by,  without  any  non- 
sense. After  all,  I'm  the  stronger 
of  the  two  and  the  nest  belongs  to 
me." 

But  the  young  eider-duck  did  not 
stir  from  her  place.  She  pecked  at  his 
hands  with  her  beak  and  cried: 

"Go  down  to  the  beach  and  catch 
my  husband  and  my  old  aunt!  Kill 
them,  if  you  like,  and  take  all  their 

222 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

down.  It's  only  what  they  deserve. 
But  you  must  let  my  down  be!" 

"Stuff,  my  petl"  said  the  man. 
"The  best  down  is  what  a  mother 
plucks  from  her  breast.  We  all  know 
that.  And,  if  your  children  have  to 
do  without,  it  will  come  in  useful  for 
other  children,  dainty  little  human 
children,  whose  parents  can  afford  to 
buy  the  softest  little  pillows  for 
them." 

"At  least,  wait  until  my  children 
are  ready!"  cried  the  eider-duck  in 
despair. 

"A  nice  thing!"  said  the  man. 
"What,  let  you  lie  there  and  spoil  the 
down?  Come,  clear  out!" 

He  pushed  her  aside,  took  all  the 
down,  put  it  in  his  basket  and  went 
away,  saying: 

"Pluck  some  more  feathers  if  you 

283 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

want  them  for  your  young.  That's 
what  a  good  mother  always  does." 

Then  she  went  to  the  edge  of  the 
rock  and  looked  out. 

The  eider-duck  were  disporting 
themselves  gloriously.  She  could  dis- 
tinctly see  her  husband  and  her  aunt 
diving  and  amusing  themselves  as 
though  life  were  a  sheer  enjoyment. 
And  all  the  others  were  doing  the 
same:  not  one  of  them  thought  that 
there  was  a  man  up  above  emptying 
all  the  nests  of  their  precious  down. 

"Come  up  here  and  pluck  your 
breast!"  she  screamed.  "Now  is  the 
time  to  keep  some  of  your  promises. 
Your  eggs  are  lying  bare  and  cold, 
while  you  are  enjoying  yourself 
down  there,  you  wretch!" 

But  her  voice  died  away  in  the  noise 
of  the  wind  and  surf.  No  one  heard 

224 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

her  cries  or  beheld  her  despair.  She 
remembered  that  the  eggs  were 
really  getting  cold,  while  she  stood 
there,  and  she  hurried  back  to  the 
nest. 

One  of  the  eggs  began  to  burst  and 
soon  a  tiny  beak  peeped  out  of  the 
hole  in  the  shell.  She  now  flew  to  help 
the  little  chap  out.  She  stood  gazing 
at  him  for  a  moment  and  saw  what 
a  darling  he  was.  And  then,  like  a 
mad  thing,  she  began  to  pluck  the 
last  remaining  feathers  from  her 
breast  and  every  part  of  her  and  laid 
them  round  the  little  fellow.  She 
ceased  complaining  and  thought  only 
of  how  she  could  make  her  children 
warm  and  comfortable. 


225 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 


Two  days  later,  all  the  five  young 
ones  were  out. 

The  young  mother  saw  with  pride 
how  smart  they  were.  Already,  they 
stretched  out  their  feet,  which  had 
a  delicate  web  between  the  toes, 
yawned,  lifted  their  little  wings  and 
even  quacked  a  bit. 

"You  must  go  to  the  beach  at  once," 
she  said.  "I  am  sure  that  there  are  no 
prettier  children  on  the  whole  rock. 
But,  should  you  meet  your  wretch  of 
a  father,  mind  you  look  the  other 
way." 

She  went  down  the  rock  and  the  five 
little  ones  followed  so  nimbly  that  it 
was  a  joy  to  see.  Half-way  down, 
she  met  her  aunt : 

226 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

"I  was  just  coming  up  to  see  you," 
said  the  old  lady.  "I  say,  what  dar- 
lings your  five  children  are!" 

"Aren't  they  dears?"  said  the 
mother,  who  forgot  all  her  rage  when 
she  heard  her  aunt's  praises. 

"Let  me  take  one  of  them  to  walk 
with,"  said  auntie. 

"Not  while  I  live!"  said  the  mother, 
severely.  "I  know  too  well  how 
flighty  you  are,  auntie.  My  children 
are  mine  and  nobody  else's  and  mine 
they  shall  remain." 

At  that  moment,  a  shot  rang 
out  through  the  air. 

It  was  a  silly  shot,  fired  at  random 
by  a  silly  boy  who  wanted  to  show 
off  his  father's  gun.  But  the  gun  was 
loaded  and  the  shot  spread  and 
Mother  Eider-Duck  sank  to  the 
ground  with  a  scream. 

227 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

"My  young  ones!  My  young  ones!" 
she  moaned. 

"They're  all  right,  all  five  of  them," 
said  auntie.  "Be  easy.  But  what's  the 
matter?" 

"I'm  dying,"  said  the  mother.  "I 
am  full  of  shot.  I  know  for  certain 
that  I'm  dying.  Oh,  my  children,  my 
children!" 

"Never  mind  about  them,"  said 
auntie.  "I  shall  be  a  mother  to  them 
in  your  stead  and  look  after  them  as 
if  they  were  my  own." 

"Oh,  auntie,"  said  the  mother,  in  a 
feeble  voice,  "you  are  so  terribly 
frivolous.  I  have  seen  you  myself 
from  up  there,  playing  and  fooling 
about  with  the  men  and  the  girls  on 
the  beach.  How  can  a  mother  trust 
her  children  to  you?" 

"What     do     you     mean?"     asked 

228 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

auntie.  "Surely,  it's  quite  different 
when  one  has  children  to  care  for. 
You  just  die  in  peace,  do  you  hear?" 

And  that  is  what  Mother  Eider- 
Duck  did. 

She  sank  into  herself  and  only  just 
had  time  to  take  a  last  look  at  her 
children.  But  her  aunt  did  not  even 
wait  till  she  was  quite  dead.  She  for- 
got everything,  except  that  she  had 
suddenly  got  five  beautiful  children, 
and  at  once  walked  off  with  them  to 
the  beach.  She  knew  the  nearest  way, 
because  she  had  already  been  there 
several  times  with  children.  She  made 
the  road  easy  for  them  and  helped 
them  in  every  possible  manner,  fond- 
ling them  with  her  beak  and  praising 
or  scolding  them  according  to  their 
deserts. 

By  the  time  that  their  mother  had 

229 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

closed  her  eyes,  the  children  were 
down  on  the  beach. 

They  at  once  swam  and  dived  in  a 
way  that  was  a  joy  to  see.  Auntie 
watched  over  them  and  almost  burst 
with  pride.  An  old  beau  came  up  and 
asked  her  to  take  a  walk  with  him, 
but  she  gave  him  a  smart  rap  with 
her  beak: 

"Don't  you  see  the  children,  you  old 
coxcomb?"  she  said.  "Get  out  of  this, 
or  I'll  teach  you!" 

And  she  remained  with  the  children 
until  they  were  able  to  take  care  of 
themselves.  She  travelled  to  the  South 
with  them,  winter  after  winter,  and 
listened  to  the  men  courting  them 
and  befooling  them,  just  as  their 
father  had  done  to  their  mother.  She 
showed  them  good  places  for  their 
nests,  paid  wedding-visits  and  was 

230 


AUNT  EIDER-DUCK 

honoured  and  esteemed  all  over  the 
rock,  until,  one  day,  a  sea-eagle  came 
and  caught  her  and  gobbled  her  up. 


THE  END 


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A     000  087  353     9 


